


Spellbound

by missbecky



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Blindness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, deafness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:05:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their alien hosts witness yet another heated argument between Steve and Tony, they are hit with a powerful magic spell in order to teach them a lesson. Now they are stranded and alone on a hostile planet. One of them can't see and the other can't hear, and the only way back to safety is on foot. And the Forest is full of dangers…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently I haven't learned my lesson about posting a WIP... Sorry?
> 
> Note that although this is currently labeled as pre-slash, this may change along the way, in which case I will update the tags to be more appropriate.

On their sixth day on the planet called Ernor, Steve and Tony got into a fight. It certainly wasn't their first, nor was it even the first they had had since arriving here. But it was the first one that other people, including their alien hosts, witnessed.

They were standing in the tiled hall that led to their guest quarters, face to face, angry tension sparking in the air between them. Steve was vaguely aware that some of the natives were standing not too far away, looking uncomfortably at anywhere but the angry humans, trying to pretend they were not seeing this. He didn't really care, though. Later he would, but not right then.

"We don't belong here," Tony said for the tenth time that week. "We need to go home."

"These people invited us here," Steve said, also for the tenth time. "They requested our help."

"No," Tony said, "they didn't. Thor volunteered us. They had never even heard of Earth or the Avengers until he opened his big mouth."

"That doesn't matter," Steve said stubbornly. He had long since gotten tired of saying the same thing over and over. "They need our help in the fight against Thanos. Are we really going to turn our backs on them when they need our help?"

"We're turning our backs on our own planet, being gone this long!" Tony shouted. "Or did you forget that we're marked for destruction too, after what happened in New York?"

"No one is turning their back on Earth!" Steve shouted back. "And anyway how could I forget, with you reminding me every half an hour?"

"Every half an hour?" Tony repeated flatly.

"It might as well be," Steve said. "You've made your point. Over and over. Why do you insist on being so melodramatic?"

"Oh, hey," Tony retorted, "what's this? The great Captain America doesn't recognize melodrama? How can that be? You practically invented it, with your propaganda films and your posing for trading cards." His eyes narrowed. "So actually I'm just descending to your level, Cap. I thought that way you might actually listen to me for a change."

Steve resisted the urge to deck him, and sighed. "Really, Tony?"

And believe it or not, that was the high point of the argument.

****

It wasn't like Steve didn't understand what Tony was saying. He knew that they were taking a chance by remaining here, leaving the Earth undefended while they helped the Ernorran people arm themselves and prepare for the invasion that was coming. But he could not turn away from them. Not as long as he was in a position to help them. Thanos was out there, collecting more armies like the Chitauri as he threw power around left and right, taking over world after world in his bid to rule the galaxy. The Avengers had stopped him once before, on Earth. Now they meant to stop him again, on this world.

That evening he was summoned to the Matriarch's private chambers.

He was curious, but unafraid. Although he had spoken with her before, he usually spent this time meeting with the Matriarch's closest advisers and high-ranking soldiers in the War Room, discussing the day's events and what progress they had achieved. He decided that she must want to speak with him alone, and hear things in his own words instead of having the news filtered through her advisers.

The War Room was rather small and poorly lit – an oddly familiar setting for Steve. In contrast, the Matriarch's chambers were large and airy, and filled with light. Discreet armed guards stood sentry along the walls, protecting the Matriarch where she sat in a tall chair that rivaled her throne for elegance.

And she was not alone. Someone else stood before her – Tony Stark.

Unconsciously Steve stood up straighter as he took his place beside Tony. Since Thor had introduced him as the Avengers' leader, he had been awarded many honors and privileges by these people. But the Matriarch had always insisted on seeing him alone, saying dismissively on the first night that the other Avengers, while no doubt mighty warriors, were beneath her.

She did not seem pleased tonight. "I will speak with you, Captain." She looked at Tony. "And with you, Man of Iron."

Steve inclined his chin in a show of respect that was not quite a bow. "Yes, ma'am."

"All right," Tony said easily. As far as Steve knew, it was the first time he had been allowed in here, but if he was at all impressed by the grandeur of the Matriarch's chambers or the weaponry currently surrounding them, he did not show it. 

"I have watched you and your Avengers as you labor to save my people," she said, "and I am not ungrateful. However, I am troubled by the strife I see within your own ranks." She leveled a stern look at Steve and Tony.

Steve returned her gaze without flinching – but it was not easy to do. He was ashamed that there had been witnesses to their argument this afternoon. He didn't fool himself into thinking that it would be the last time, but he vowed that in the future any disagreements he had with his team would take place in private.

"I am given to understand by the Prince of Asgard that your team has not been assembled for very long," the Matriarch said. "This disturbs me. My sages have assured me that in you two they have seen the potential for much greatness. Not only within your team, but for yourselves."

Now Steve did startle a little. Potential for greatness? With Tony Stark? 

Beside him, Tony shot him a quick glance, one eyebrow raised as if to say, _What the hell?_

"But until you learn to work together," the Matriarch continued, "I cannot have you here. You endanger my people more than you protect them."

"Hey," Tony started to protest.

"Ma'am," Steve began, using his best it's-going-to-be-okay-Captain-America-is-here-now voice.

"Enough!" the Matriarch exclaimed. She leveled one claw-like hand at Steve. "You will not listen to what is being said. And you," she pointed at Tony, "refuse to see what is in front of you. Until you can do these things, let them bind you. And know that you shall not be allowed to return until you have overcome them."

A robed figure Steve had not seen before stepped out from behind the Matriarch's chair. It raised its hands and spoke a hushed word.

There was a terrific thunderclap of noise and white light. And that was the last thing Steve knew.

****

The first thing he noticed when he woke up was the silence. After nearly a week of weapons practice and giving lectures to young recruits, arguing with Tony and discussing strategy with his teammates, it was almost nice. Peaceful, actually.

Until he opened his eyes, and realized how wrong it was.

He was lying on his side on a rocky beach. Damp sand stretched toward the waves of an outgoing tide. He stared blankly as a wave rolled up the sand, white foam curling and frothing about the base of the rocks that stood between him and the water. A second wave crashed onto the beach, reaching in vain for the tideline that continued to pull away.

There was no sound.

His heart suddenly pounded in his chest – but not his ears. Memory returned with a rush. He twisted about on the sand and sat up.

He was not alone. Not far from where he sat, Tony lay in a loose heap, as though someone had dropped him and retreated hastily. He was still unconscious, but he did not appear injured.

"Tony." There was no distinguishing the word from the silence; the word was part of it, whole and complete. He tried again, and again he could not hear it. Alarmed, he put his hand to his throat, and this time when he spoke he pushed hard, trying to forcibly give sound to the word.

There was nothing. No vibration beneath his fingers. He could not speak. He could not hear.

Above them, the sky was leaden gray. The tide continued to go out. Steve sat on the beach and wondered just what the hell he was going to do next.

Well, first thing was first. He climbed to his feet and looked around. He saw no one else, only Tony and himself, and a messy cluster of footprints and trails on the sand where their unknown abductors had brought them out here, then retreated. On his left, the tide crept further and further away. Behind him and ahead, the beach stretched endlessly onward.

To the right lay the Forest. It undoubtedly had a proper name, but no one had bothered to share that with them. On their first day here they had been warned to stay out of the Forest, on the grounds that it was very dangerous to anyone not born to this realm. Naturally this had prompted Clint and Natasha to immediately sneak out and do a little recon. They had come back and reported that although they hadn't encountered any roving wildebeests, they _had_ seen the rather large tracks of some kind of creature.

Now the Forest lay between them and the Citadel where the Matriarch and her people lived, the people who were supposed to be letting the Avengers help them defend their world. Coming here had been Thor's suggestion, and right up until this second, Steve had agreed that it was the right thing to do. Now he just wished like hell that he had never listened to Thor in the first place.

Thor. God, where was he? Where were Bruce and Clint and Natasha? Were they lying on another stretch of beach? Or were they back at the Citadel, safe and unharmed? Or under arrest maybe? It was true that he and Tony had been arguing all week, but they were not the only ones who had gotten into it. What was happening to the rest of the Avengers right now?

He groaned aloud, another sound he could not hear. The reminder of his predicament set his heart to racing again, and he had to breathe in deep to keep from panicking.

All right. He had to stay calm. There were no dangers in the vicinity. He was deaf and mute, but uninjured. The immediate priorities were taken care of. His next move was obvious.

He turned toward where Tony lay on the sand, and saw that his next task was, in fact, unnecessary. On his own, Tony was waking up.

Steve stood very still. He was pretty sure he knew how this was going to go down.

Tony came awake by slow degrees, his head turning a little, one hand twitching. He opened his eyes, blinked rapidly a few times, then stared up at the gray sky. Slow horror dawned on his face. His lips parted, either speaking or making some kind of sound – either way, Steve could not hear it. Then he was in motion, springing to his feet, utter panic in his eyes. And that was where Steve's guesswork failed. For when Tony's hands flew up, reaching desperately, it wasn't his eyes he moved to touch – it was the arc reactor.

****

There was no darkness in Tony Stark's world anymore. After Afghanistan it had taken him a long time to come to terms with that fact, to accept that even in the darkest night with all the lights off and blackout shades on the windows, he was never going to know pure dark again. He had raged against it for a while before finally accepting that he was forever destined to be his own private flashlight. It hadn't made falling asleep any easier, but at least he had stopped fighting it.

And now there was this. Waking up to utter blackness, accompanied by the sound of waves crashing on a beach. Never at his best when he first woke up, it took Tony a couple seconds to figure out what was so wrong about the moment – but when the knowledge struck, it did so with a vengeance.

He shouted in fear and scrambled to his feet, flailing for the arc reactor. He was so certain he would find only a gaping hole in his chest that when he made contact with the smooth surface, he couldn't understand it at first. He just stood there, running his fingertips over the edges, feeling for any damage, for something to explain why it was there but no longer putting out any light.

A shuffling sound came from behind him, and he whirled around, sliding a little on the sand. "Who's there?" he called.

There was no answer except for another one of those sandy shuffles. He took a step back and raised his hands in the reflexive gesture that belonged to Iron Man, not Tony Stark. 

On his right, another wave crashed on the beach he couldn't see. Instinctively he turned to look at it – and just like that, his logical thinking brain finally managed to overrule the lizard brain that had been in charge from the moment he woke up in the dark. This unnatural darkness had nothing to do with the arc reactor or even something as simple as nightfall. The dark existed because he could not see. He had gone blind.

Panic set in immediately. He forgot all about whoever or whatever was in front of him, shuffling their way across the sand. With a sharp cry of terror he reached for his eyes, trying to understand how this could have happened.

He couldn't feel anything physically wrong, nothing to explain why he couldn't see a damn thing. And he was still trying to figure it out when a pair of strong hands gripped his wrists and pulled his hands down and forward.

Bright new fear bolted through him. He forgot every fighting move Steve and Natasha had tried to teach him. All he knew was that someone had grabbed him and _he couldn't see them._

Desperate to get free, he kicked and struggled to pull back. Against his will, he was dragged forward. He managed to land a solid kick on the other person, but it had virtually no effect. He was helpless to prevent his unseen assailant from planting his hands firmly on the person's face.

Abruptly he stilled. _What the fuck…?_

Of their own accord, his fingers explored that strange face. And within seconds it was no longer strange. Because he knew that face. He had been looking at it for two months now. He had studied it when he was pretty sure no one was looking, until he had memorized every line, every contour. Although he had never touched it until now, he knew this face as intimately as he knew his own.

_"Steve?"_

The face nodded.

"Oh my God." Tony slumped in relief.

The grip on his wrists did not slacken. His hands were moved to cover Steve's ears. Steve shook his head. Then again, this time his palms placed over Steve's mouth. Another shake of the head, a completely unnecessary gesture because Tony got it, oh Christ, he got it.

He didn't need sight to know that there was no one else around, and Steve couldn't hear it, but it needed to be said anyway. He threw his head back and shouted to the sky, "You have _got_ to be kidding me!"


	2. Chapter 2

Reading lips had never been one of Steve's skills, and he realized right away that they were in for some serious trouble. Communication was going to be a real problem – starting right now.

Even though the Matriarch and her people were behind this, there was still no choice but to make their way back to the Citadel. Staying here on the beach was certainly not an option. There was no food, no water, and no shelter. While he was not keen on traveling through the Forest on foot, he could see no other options. They would just have to go slow, and hope that Thor and the other Avengers would come for them – if they were even allowed to do such a thing. But in the meantime, there was no escaping that journey.

The problem was, he didn't know how he was going to explain all that to Tony.

Undaunted by the fact that Steve couldn't hear him, Tony was still talking. Or maybe he was just doing it to hear _something_ , so he wouldn't feel so alone in the dark. It was impossible to tell what he was saying, but from the way he was patting his hands down Steve's shoulders, arms, and chest, his intent seemed clear.

 _I'm okay_ , he wanted to say. _I'm not hurt._ But he didn't know how. In the end he settled for placing Tony's hands on his face again and shaking his head.

In answer, Tony just stepped back and nodded. He gestured to himself, then nodded again, speaking aloud at the same time. The words were useless, but the gesture was clear – he too was unhurt.

Steve looked around, wondering what happened next. He felt angry and helpless. The Matriarch's last words to them kept echoing in his ears. Since she had introduced them to her sages, he had been forced to listen as Tony and Bruce constantly made scoffing noises about magic, while Thor had cautioned them to keep an open mind. Now he and Tony were on the receiving end of one heck of a spell – proving beyond a doubt that magic existed on this planet.

Apparently unaware of Steve's lack of lip-reading skills, Tony said a single word, then repeated it. There was obvious inquiry on his face. Steve stared hard at his lips, trying to decipher what he was asking, and Tony sighed, his shoulders slumping. 

Frustrated, Steve bit back a sigh of his own. A second later, Tony flung his arms out wide, lowered his head, and bared his teeth in a roar.

Comprehension dawned. Bruce. Tony was asking about Bruce.

He took hold of Tony's hand, placed it on his face, and shook his head.

One by one they went through a similar pantomime for each of the other Avengers. A bow being drawn. A fisted hand holding an imaginary hammer cocked over one shoulder. Two pistols, thumb and forefinger extended. And each time, Steve had to shake his head no.

"Fuck," Tony said – and that one Steve had no trouble deciphering. He nodded, then remembered that Tony couldn't see him.

For a long time they just stood there. The last of the evening light was rapidly dwindling. The tide was further out than ever. Sea breezes stirred their hair and the loose, dark gray clothing they were wearing. Not their own clothes, but simple tunics and pants like those the aliens wore, shapeless and a bit too big. Clothing that had been put on them after the spell had been cast.

They could not stand here forever. With a silent plea heavenward, Steve reached out and took Tony's hand.

Instinctively Tony jerked back, outraged annoyance written all over his face. Too late, Steve remembered his often-repeated mantra about how he didn't like being handed things.

 _Too bad for you,_ he thought without any sympathy, and grabbed Tony's hand again.

This time Tony made no effort to hide his displeasure – but he allowed it. 

Silently he began walking forward. After a hesitation and another scowl, Tony went with him.

Together they walked up the beach.

****

The footprints and signs left behind by the Matriarch's people abruptly ended a few yards ahead. They must have come in one of their flying crafts; he could see the marks where the landing gear had come down.

His shield lay on the sand.

Against the gray sky and water, the bright red and blue of the shield were the only colors visible. He let out a glad, silent cry and began to run toward it, pulling Tony with him. Caught off guard by the sudden change in pace, Tony stumbled and nearly fell, then hurried forward with him.

He let go of Tony's hand and dropped to one knee in the sand. Carefully he picked the shield up and examined it, afraid of what he might find. The shield was not damaged, though, which was fortunate. Normally he would not have worried, but in this world, where magic could steal a man's ears and eyes, there was no telling what might have happened to it. 

He was surprised, though, to discover one of Iron Man's gauntlets beneath the shield. So they were not going to be left out here completely defenseless. He supposed that was something.

Smiling grimly, he pivoted on his knee and held up the gauntlet. He started to snap the fingers of his other hand to get Tony's attention – and his smile died.

Tony was standing right where Steve had left him. His eyes roamed over the beach, seeing nothing but trying, still trying. He looked small and afraid, and utterly helpless against the backdrop of sea and sky.

Steve almost hated the Matriarch and her people then, for doing this to them. He could endure wrongs done to himself – he was the leader of the Avengers, after all. When he had taken on that duty, he had accepted that if there were measures to be taken against the group, they would fall on his head. But for them to include Tony in this exotic punishment was too much. It was wrong and it was unacceptable, and he was not going to let them get away with it.

He stood up, shuffling his feet on the sand. Tony's head snapped in his direction. "Steve?"

He rapped his knuckles on the gauntlet. He had heard the sound before, back home, but now only Tony could hear it. The effect was instantaneous. Tony's eyes widened in recognition, and he flung out one hand. He beckoned with his fingers and spoke, no doubt ordering Steve to hand it over.

The instant Tony had hold of the gauntlet, the fear left his eyes. He stood straight, confidence returning to his posture. He said something Steve could not hear, then began to examine the gauntlet in minute detail.

Feeling very unnecessary, Steve stood off to one side and just watched. Tony worked swiftly but meticulously, running his fingers over every inch of the gauntlet, using touch alone to check for damage or stresses in the metal. Despite the gravity of their situation, Steve couldn't help but stare at Tony's hands. He had an artist's appreciation for good hands, for strong, slender fingers like Tony had, for the tiny scars and nicks that came from a lifetime of hard work.

But that was all it was, he told himself sternly. An artist's appreciation. Nothing more.

Tony nodded and spoke. Already his gaze had turned inward, Steve saw; his eyes were open but blank, in that classic expression of blindness. Yet there was no hesitation at all in his motions as he threaded a wire from the gauntlet underneath his tunic and connected it to the arc reactor. He pulled the metal glove on, and the repulsor in the palm came to life in a sudden burst of white light.

Tony could not see the light, of course, but he would have heard the unmistakable whine of the repulsor – a noise Steve could not hear but only imagine. He grinned, a thing of savage beauty. He took careful aim down the beach, paused long enough that Steve could have stopped him if it had been too dangerous, then fired.

Sand exploded in a starburst pattern. Steve raised his shield in triumph. They might be alone and without supplies of any kind, but at least they were no longer defenseless.

****

As twilight began to cover the land, they walked up the beach. Steve led them on a path that angled toward the Forest. He gripped his shield with his left hand and held Tony's hand with his right. He kept his pace steady but slow enough that Tony could keep up without any difficulty.

He could not imagine how terrible that journey was for Tony, forced to put himself so completely at Steve's mercy, trusting that Steve would not lead him astray or let him walk into anything. That kind of trust did not come easily to Tony Stark. Moreover, Steve knew he had never really done anything to earn it. Forcing that trust on Tony now was probably the worst thing about this whole sorry business. And it made him determined to do everything in his power to deserve it.

The light was failing fast now; not only was it night, but rain was coming, and soon. The wind picked up too, a sound Steve could not hear as it tossed his hair about and sent little ripples through his clothing. He hoped they would make it to the shelter of the trees before the rain hit, even while he braced himself for the worst.

They were almost to the treeline when Tony abruptly stopped walking. Steve halted as well, wondering.

Tony looked in his general direction, missing his face by a wide margin. He said something, a long, completely incomprehensible rambling that Steve didn't bother attempting to decipher. If it made Tony feel better to speak out loud, Steve certainly wasn't about to stop him.

The words he couldn't hear came to a halt. In the gloom, he saw Tony hold up one finger. A nod. Two fingers. A head shake. Then he stood still, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

In response, Steve placed the hand in the gauntlet on the side of his face. Then he reached down and clasped Tony's free hand again. He tapped his forefinger against the back of Tony's hand and nodded, then repeated the procedure with two taps and a shake of his head.

Tony smiled grimly and nodded. "Okay," he said, and Steve understood that one, no problem.

****

Just before they entered the Forest, Steve hesitated.

Since their arrival on the planet, he had heard all kinds of dire warnings and dark mutterings about these woods. The Matriarch herself had refused to speak of it, but some of her advisers had done so, mostly out of a desire to curry favor with their rescuers, Steve suspected.

They had all said the same thing. No one lived in the Forest now, although in years past, people had hunted there. Now only the terrible beasts without name lived in the woods, and they were greatly feared. Steve had only nodded to hear this, remembering the description Natasha had given of the large tracks she and Clint had seen on their recon mission.

When he had asked why people did not live there, the answers had become more vague. At last one of the advisers had mentioned something, and the others had hesitantly agreed. The word in the aliens' native tongue was unpronounceable in human speech, so Steve had to settle for the translation. Dark energy, the Matriarch's advisers called it, although they all cautioned that the term was not an exact translation. Regardless of what it was called, the advisers all agreed that some dark power dwelt in the Forest, animating the beasts there, feeding off them even as they in turn fed off its power.

Standing there in the War Room, surrounded by soldiers and members of the Matriarch's councils, Steve had smiled politely and kept his skepticism to himself. Now, though, standing there in utter silence due to a magic spell, he could only stare at the Forest – and wonder.

****

Hand in hand, they entered the Forest. Again Tony was the one who stopped them, his head slightly cocked as he listened to something Steve could not hear. Then he figured it out and looked up.

Steve followed his gaze – and did not miss the look of angry frustration that crossed Tony's face upon realizing the uselessness of the reflexive "look up" gesture. 

It was nearly dark by then, and it took him a long moment to see what Tony had already heard. The absence of sound made it harder to focus in the gloom. And then he saw it. Rain was striking the trees.

It was incredibly strange to watch the drops bounce around the broad leaves without any sound. Fear, dry and choking, clutched at his throat, and it was suddenly difficult to breathe.

He had never thought he would miss the sound of rain.

The fear paralyzed him. Silence enwrapped him, thick and oppressive. He wanted to scream and scream until at last he broke through the silence. Just one moment. One voice. One sound. That was all he needed. Just…something.

A raindrop struck the top of his cheek. He startled violently and raised the shield in an instinctive gesture of self-defense, dropping into a battle crouch. The sudden movement ripped Tony's hand from his grasp, but he scarcely noticed.

His heart pounded painfully – and silently – within his chest. He could not do this. He had tried, he had done his best to pretend that the silence did not bother him, but that was a lie. The silence wrapped itself around him and it was the silence of endless sleep, of being locked in ice, it was the cold silent death of everything he had ever known and loved.

His breath caught. He felt himself sliding down still further, closer to the ground, the shield still raised high. He knew rain was striking the metal, but he couldn't hear it, he couldn't hear anything, and it was too much, too much –

Movement at the corner of his eye took him by surprise. He reeled to his feet, bringing the shield up and staggering backward. He braced himself for battle – and then Tony was there, just Tony, hardly more than a shadowy silhouette against the night, one hand held up in a calming gesture.

He felt all kinds of a fool then. He was shaking all over, and of course Tony had felt that, the trembling communicated to him through their clasped hands before Steve's fearful reaction had ripped them apart. What must Tony be thinking right now, unable to see what had scared the mighty Captain America so badly!

He was suddenly ashamed of himself. He had to do better than this. He had to be braver. He had to be stronger. Tony was depending on him. And there was no telling what was happening to the other Avengers. He had to get through this, for all their sakes.

Slowly he lowered his shield. He took a deep breath and let it out. In front of him, Tony eased forward a step, looking worried, utterly clueless to Steve's struggle for self-control. If he had spoken then, reinforcing the walls of Steve's silent prison, it would have been the last straw. But mercifully he remained quiet, and Steve finally felt his racing heart start to slow down.

He tapped his shield once.

Tony froze.

Steve tapped the shield again. Just once. _Yes. I am fine. I am okay. Yes._

Tony nodded, his features smoothing out. He took a step back.

Steve breathed in deep again, forcing himself not to dwell on the unnatural silence of the act. Instead he focused on the rain, on those drops that made it past the leafy treetops to the forest floor. Tony seemed completely unfazed by the rain, and Steve decided that he could do worse than follow his lead. If Tony could remain calm about a rain he could not see, then Steve was not going to let it distress him that he could not hear it.

He looked around, then up at what he could see of the sky. Back on the beach, there was probably some lingering daylight, but here in the Forest, it was fully night. 

They would keep going, he decided, until they found a source of water, then they would stop for the night and try to make some form of shelter. There were enough broken tree limbs lying around that he could hopefully rig up a crude canopy with them and his shield. It didn't have to be anything fancy, just large enough to protect them from the worst of the rain.

With a silent sigh, he took Tony's hand – Tony jumped a little at the unexpected contact – and began walking forward again.

****

The night was very long.

They sat beneath a tall tree not far from a narrow stream. Steve had taken one look at the raindrops hitting the water's surface, then quickly looked away. He did not need to see another thing he could not hear.

The water tasted fine, but it was uncomfortably cold, reminding him yet again of the silence of the ice. Nor did it do anything for the growing hunger in his belly.

He had no idea how long it would take to walk back to the Citadel. If the Forest was truly as dangerous as the Matriarch's people had claimed, it might take a very long time. They would need to find food, and soon. Water alone would only sustain them for so long.

As if to underscore this point, he felt a long rumble of sensation deep within his stomach. A few seconds later, Tony smirked and said something he couldn't hear, then was still again.

Steve shifted his weight so the tree at his back wasn't digging so uncomfortably into his shoulder blades, and sighed.

It wasn't raining anymore. At least, he thought it wasn't. It was pitch black out, and without being able to hear anything, it was hard to be sure. Earlier, he had swung his shield at the tree next to the one currently serving as his prickly couch, embedding one edge within the trunk so that a person could sit beneath it and take some meager shelter from the rain. It had taken some doing to convince Tony to use it for shelter, but at last he had complied, although not without first giving Steve an angry glare and a very rude gesture.

Fortunately, Tony's petulance had not lasted. Shortly after taking his place beneath the shield, he had pulled down the collar of his tunic so the illumination from the arc reactor gave Steve a little bit of light to see by. It wasn't much, and beyond the small circle of light it cast, the Forest was pitch black. Steve was grateful for it, anyway, and wished he knew how to thank Tony for that kind gesture.

The night wore on. He leaned against his tree, but had no intention of falling asleep. He was thoroughly wet and miserable from the rain, and growing more hungry with every passing hour. Worse, he could not stop wondering what was happening to the rest of his team. Losing any senses would not lessen the threat of a rampaging Hulk, and he doubted this kind of magic would even work on Thor, but Clint and Natasha were as human as they came. Were they even now stumbling through the Forest? Were they in danger?

The only way he would find out was to make it back to the Citadel. He could not expect help from any quarter. If they were going to do this, it was up to him and Tony, alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, and all others, when Steve and Tony are "talking" to each other, all punctuation errors are deliberate.

There was a moment, right when Tony first woke up, when he forgot that he couldn't see. He was only aware of the uncomfortable dampness of his clothing and the hard ground beneath him. For a moment it was kind of like going back in time to those days when he had never spent two nights in a row in the same place, never knowing where he was going to wake up or with who and under what conditions. 

Then he remembered what had happened yesterday, and the past fled in a hurry. He opened his eyes and sat up, and the hope that had barely begun to rise – _maybe it's worn off, they decided we learned our lesson, maybe it's okay_ – died a swift death.

He couldn't see. He was still blind.

He groaned out loud, because hell, what difference did it make? Steve couldn't hear it anyway. 

He had meant to be strong, really he had. To weather this like it was nothing. But the truth was that he was nearing the limit of his ability to endure. The loss of the arc reactor's steady light was bad, but he could deal with that; after all, it wasn't really any different from being outside on a bright sunny day.

What he could not handle was the stifling darkness. It was too much like being back in the cave, a hot, smelly hood over his head. The darkness of the hood meant voices shouting angry words he couldn't understand, rough hands shoving him, guns jabbing into his back. It meant blows he could not see or avoid, buckets of cold water and white knuckles clutching a car battery for dear life.

"I wish you could talk to me," he sighed. Hearing Steve's voice would have gone a long way toward easing his fear. Just one familiar voice speaking English, someone to tell him that it would be all right, this was only temporary, he was not going to be blind for the rest of his life. He needed that more than he wanted to admit. Something to ground him. To remind him where he was, that he was not alone in the dark, lost and abandoned by everyone.

"You have no idea how much this sucks," he said. Talking to himself helped a little – but not much. He needed someone else, someone outside himself. In the cave it had been Yinsen's calming voice reaching out to anchor him. Afterward, home again, it had been JARVIS, the soothing English accent giving him status reports when he woke from a nightmare or found himself lost in the cave again, unable to remember where he was or how he'd gotten there. Steve's voice would have been perfect right now, giving him something steady to cling to in the black. Except Steve could not talk to him. He had to be his own anchor right now. And he pretty much sucked at that.

Steve's hand touched his shoulder, making him jump at the unexpected contact. Rather than pull away though, Steve gave his shoulder a brief scrubbing motion, then patted it quickly before letting go of him. It was a useless gesture of comfort that Tony was nonetheless thankful for. Touch was all that was left to them now, the only means of communication –

And abruptly he wanted to smack himself. God, he was such an idiot!

He reached out, fingers straining uselessly in the dark until they made contact with something solid and very muscled. On any other day he would have enjoyed exploring the broad expanse of Steve's chest, but today he had another goal in mind. Swiftly he walked his fingers down Steve's arm until he found Steve's hand – then turned it palm up. 

Carefully, with a short pause after each one, he used the tip of his forefinger to trace letters onto Steve's open palm. T and H and I and S. A longer pause. S and U and C and K and S, and he could feel the little quivers that suddenly ran through Steve's body, and he knew that Steve was laughing.

Tony spread his hands in a wide gesture. "Well," he said, "am I right or am I right?"

Steve took his hand and began to write. The letters came slower, since Steve apparently thought that being unable to see the motions meant he needed more time to identify each one as it was traced on his skin. It was completely unnecessary, but Tony appreciated the gesture anyway.

Y and E and S. I and T. D and O and E and S.

Oddly enough, the sudden breakthrough in communication only served to piss him off. It should not have taken him hours to think of this simple thing. It was like he had lost his intelligence along with his sight. He had to do better than this. He had to be quicker. He had to be smarter.

Sitting here on his ass wasn't going to do either of them any good, though. He reached up to feel for Cap's shield buried in the tree above his head – it would be just his luck to stand up and decapitate himself with the damn thing. Once he had hold of the rim, he stood up.

Steve would be looking at him now, wondering what he was doing. He made a vague gesture in the opposite direction of the stream that was somewhere on their right. "I'm just gonna…" He gestured again, even more vaguely this time, at himself. "Yeah. Not spelling that one out in your hand."

He set off walking – and right away made a terrible discovery. Walking in the dark, holding Captain America's hand like a child, was both humiliating and unpleasant. Walking in the dark, completely alone, was just plain horrible.

Without his sight, the sounds of the Forest were magnified: the stream running with more energy after last night's rain; the wind in the trees; the chittering of alien insects. But none of those things would guide his footsteps. None of them could help him know when he was about to walk into a tree.

Abruptly he stopped, going perfectly still. Fear, dark and suffocating, closed itself around him. He couldn't do this. Who the hell was he kidding? He was blind. He couldn't walk around in the woods on his own.

Clothing rustled as Steve stood up. Then Steve's hand came out of the black, touching his upper arm, ready to guide him forward. He nearly jumped a foot in the air, fear making his heart race and his mouth go dry. He cursed himself for his reaction, and shook his head with a bitter laugh. "Sorry."

He needed that guiding hand, damnit, but he also hated it – and in that moment, he hated Steve, too. Because he would be damned if he couldn't even go off and take a piss on his own. The anger gave him strength. He even found that he was able to shove the fear aside. _Screw this. I'm Tony Stark. I'm Iron Man. I can do this._ With a look of disgust, he smacked Steve's hand off his arm. 

It was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but he began walking again. It wasn't very dignified – he kind of shuffled his feet instead of picking them up properly, and he held his right hand out to feel the way in front of him – but he kept on walking.

Despite his determination, though, he didn't dare go too far. For one thing, he was convinced that he was about to walk into something at any second now. For another, he worried that he wouldn't be able to find his way back if he went too far.

His back stiff, he returned the way he had come, using the sound of running water to guide him. He could almost _feel_ Steve's presence hovering nearby, a tall, blond, perfect specimen of a man, no doubt watching him with anxiety and worry.

"I'm fine," Tony snapped. "Quit staring at me." He knew Steve couldn't hear him, couldn't read his lips, but he didn't care. Some things had to be said out loud anyway.

At the stream he knelt down and let the water run over his hands. There was no soap out here, of course, but he did the best he could, wishing he could strip down and step bodily into the stream and wash the rest of himself. Not that he would. Not while Steve was watching.

Steve.

It was time to face the facts. They were stuck out here, in this none-too-safe Forest, if all the stories could be believed. Steve was deaf and mute, and he was blind.

And it was all Steve's fault.

Last night the shock of waking up to find himself blind and stranded on the beach had been too raw; he hadn't really had a chance to think about everything. But he knew where things stood now, all right.

All week long he had done his best to convince Steve that they needed to leave this planet and go home. They had done what they could for these people's defenses on the first two days they had been here – anything beyond that was up to the native populace. Yet they had lingered here on Steve's command, because Steve felt sorry for them, and because he wanted to stop Thanos in his bid for galactic domination. And while Tony was all about stopping supervillains, he was also just the _tiniest_ bit worried about Earth being left defenseless while the Avengers were gone.

And okay, maybe "defenseless" was stretching it a bit, considering that there was Reed Richards and his gang, some kid calling himself Spider-Man, and Rhodey all still out there. But still. They weren't the Avengers. They hadn't faced the Chitauri. They didn't know what they were up against.

So yeah, he had argued with Steve. Bitterly, at times.

And look where it had got them.

Oh wait. He couldn't look. Because he couldn't _see._

He stood up and wiped the last of the moisture on his hands off on the no-doubt unflattering trousers the aliens had dressed him in (and didn't _that_ charming little notion just make his skin crawl, imagining them dressing him like a huge ragdoll while he was unconscious and completely at their mercy). 

"Okay," he said, in what he sincerely hoped was Steve's general direction – otherwise he was going to look like even more of an ass than he sounded. "It's like this. I'm pissed off at you. I hope you know that. This is all your fault. And _you_ are going to find a way to fix it. _You_ are going to take us back to the Citadel and make them un-magic us. Got it? Because if I have to spend one more day like this, I'm going to kill somebody. And you're the only one around. Which nominates you as my murder victim. So in the interest of self-preservation, I suggest you get your ass moving." And on that note, he held out his right hand imperiously, then waggled his fingers.

After a long moment, he heard the sounds of Steve moving around. Footsteps on fallen leaves and twigs. And then something hard and metallic touched his outstretched palm.

With practiced ease, Tony donned the gauntlet and connected it to the arc reactor. He heard the repulsor whine to life, and in spite of himself, he breathed easier at the sound.

That chore done, he held out his other hand, making no effort whatsoever to disguise how much he hated doing it. "Let's go."

After all, there was no reason to hang out here. They had no food, and no camp to break down. And the Citadel wasn't going to get any closer on its own.

He heard another metallic scrape, and figured that was Steve yanking the shield out of the tree. More metal-y noises, and fabric rustling, and then at last Steve took hold of his hand.

Reflexively Tony started to pull away. He didn't mean to. He just couldn't help it.

Sighing loudly, he stopped himself before he could break Steve's grasp. He turned his face up to the morning he couldn't see, and said, "Lead on then."

And Steve did.

****

Leading a blind person through the woods was easier said than done. Especially when that person was already pissed off, and only growing angrier as the day went on.

The Forest was not like any woods Steve had ever known. The trees grew close together, and it was difficult to find a clear path through them. Following the stream made things easier, but often the ground sloped away, and he found himself walking above the watercourse, looking down frequently to make sure it was still within sight – without the sound of running water to guide him, he was forced to keep the stream in view.

They made good time when they were beside the stream, but when their path took them through the trees, their progress slowed considerably. The worst part wasn't the overhanging branches that he could duck and dodge, but then had to hold aside for Tony to pass beneath. It was the fallen branches and the occasional protruding rock on the ground, simple obstacles made less simple by the fact that Tony couldn't see them.

Some of those things could be walked around. Others had to be stepped over. Each time that happened, Steve came to a complete halt and tapped Tony's nearest leg with their clasped hands. Tony's existing scowl would deepen and he would slide his foot forward until he encountered the fallen tree or whatever stood in their way. Awkwardly, usually raising his leg far higher than necessary, he would climb over the tree, clinging to Steve's hand for balance. Another person might have found the sight amusing, but Steve just felt his heart give a little lurch in his chest every time it happened, and his guilt increased just that much more.

And every time, Tony would clench his jaw still harder and glare blankly into the space before him, until Steve was almost wincing with the headache he was sure Tony was suffering.

They walked on. Steve glanced back often, checking on Tony. Sometimes he saw Tony talking to himself. Other times he was stonily silent, his expression set in lines of angry, grim determination.

He knew Tony blamed him for their predicament. He hadn't needed to be able to read lips this morning to know that. It was in the way Tony glared at him, and the stiff, angry way he had refused Steve's help until the last possible second. When Tony had slapped his hand away, he had been forcefully reminded of their first real argument, the one on board the Helicarrier.

But today there was no magical scepter to blame. Today there was only himself.

There was nothing he could do, though. Nothing but lead Tony back to the Citadel – and pray that he could convince the Matriarch to undo the spell that was only driving them further apart.

****

By the time the air began to carry the coolness of evening, Tony was ready to call it quits. Enough of this. No more stumbling around in the dark. No more gnawing hunger. No more being forced to hold Steve Rogers' hand like a little kid. No more any of it.

Of course, for all that to happen, they had to get back to the Citadel and get the spell removed.

"Fuck my life," he sighed bitterly as they finally stopped for the night.

Steve, ever so considerate, drew a question mark on his palm.

Tony just shook his head and began removing the Iron Man gauntlet. "Nothing worth sharing."

For a while he just stood there, listening as Steve moved around, doing…god only knew what. He could hear running water, again on their right, the same stream they had been following all day. The sound of water was quieter, though, and he guessed that the stream was deeper here.

Footsteps drew near, Steve's feet shuffling through the leaves and undergrowth, deliberately letting him know he was approaching. Tony appreciated that thoughtfulness, even though it pissed him off that he even needed it at all.

Steve's hand took his. _We stop here. Is that okay?_

"Sure," Tony said, and nodded. He had no idea how dark it was already, or if Steve could even see the gesture. Frankly he didn't care.

_I dont see anything we can eat,_ Steve wrote on his palm. _Ive been looking all day for fish in the stream. There arent any._

This was a curious thing, and Tony frowned. Come to think of it, he hadn't really heard much in the way of any wildlife during their long walk through the Forest. A few birds, some insects, and that was about it.

What, exactly, did the giant beasts that lived out here eat?

Even the thought of food made his mouth water and his stomach growl. He hadn't eaten much at dinner last night, being too curious about his summons to the Matriarch's chambers to do much more than frown at the meal. In hindsight, he should have cleaned his plate and found an excuse not to go…but then, hindsight was always 20/20, wasn't it?

And God, if that was the only kind of sight he was ever going to have… A shiver worked through him.

_Ill find something tomorrow I promise,_ Steve wrote. He gave Tony's hand a reassuring little squeeze.

Annoyed that Steve had seen the need to comfort him, he yanked his hand back. Then he thought better of it, and reached out.

_Less talk,_ he wrote. _More getting shit done._

This time it was Steve who pulled away. He imagined a flush of anger on those otherwise perfect cheeks, and that made him feel both ashamed of himself, and also more ticked off than before. Because if anyone had a right to be angry here, it was himself, not Steve.

He flung out his hand and made that imperious beckoning gesture. "Come on," he said. "Let's do this. Put it all out there."

As he took hold of Steve's hand, it occurred to him to wonder if maybe the reason he was ready to blame Steve now was because he finally had a way to say so. Then he didn't think anything, except for getting the words out.

_Were doing this then were done,_ he wrote. _I tried and tried to tell you but you wouldnt listen and now here we are. This is your fault and you know it. We get back to Earth and—_

Steve didn't let him finish. Maybe he knew what Tony was about to say, what dire and horrible things he was going to promise – _you're out, no more Tower, no more Iron Man, I'm through with you_ – or maybe he was just desperate to have his say. Either way, before Tony could do more than process the fact that he had just been interrupted, he felt new letters being traced on his palm.

_Youre right. This is my fault. Im so sorry._

"Damn straight," Tony snapped.

Steve was not done, however.

_But you have to remember what she said. This isnt going to wear off until we find a way to work together._

That was pretty much the last thing Tony wanted to think about. Right now the idea of working hand in hand with Cap (oh ha ha very fucking funny) was about as appealing as a root canal. Then again, at least with the dentist he could still see.

His turn now, holding Steve's hand, scribbling out the words. _I thought we_ were _working together._ He used extra force when tracing "were", underscoring the emphasis on the word. _Or was all this just an excuse to hold my hand? You could have just asked nicely._ He paused to let that sink in, then wrote, _Fine count me in. For now though just leave me alone._

He had no idea what was around, how close the nearest tree was, how many steps to the stream. None of it mattered just then. Tony sat down on the ground and refused to move again.

****

He slept badly that night, dozing off and on, never really getting any true sleep. The darkness surrounding him felt hot and stifling, and he could swear he smelled old blood and sweat. Once, he was positive he heard someone speaking Arabic.

Disgusted with himself, he sat up. 

And off in the Forest, something roared. Loudly.

Tony jerked his head up, his heart pounding. "What the fuck was that?" His gaze swept the blackness, seeking uselessly for the source of that noise.

The roar sounded again. Closer this time.

He leapt to his feet. After an unbearably long time, he heard the sounds of Steve getting up.

Steve was almost certainly staring at him in puzzlement, wondering what had spooked him. There was no time for lengthy explanations. Tony spread his hands, fingers curled in like talons, and gave a great big toothy bellow. He pointed in the direction of the roaring, then began to backpedal, motioning for Steve to follow. "Come on, come on, come on. We gotta go!"

Steve grabbed his hand. He stood still long enough to feel the H and the U traced onto his palm, then he twisted his hand around to grab Steve's wrist and pull him forward. He shook his head. The roaring he had heard was most definitely _not_ the Hulk.

Steve balked. Their hands separated. The roaring came again, even closer. Tony scooted backward, nearly dancing with impatience, sick fear in the pit of his stomach. "Steve! We gotta go. _Now!_ " All he could think about was how far apart Clint had held his hands while describing the size of the tracks he and Natasha had seen.

Something hard and metallic touched his arm. The gauntlet. He put it on and swiftly attached it to the arc reactor. Then Steve had hold of his hand, and they took off running.

It was without a doubt the worst getaway in history. He was the only one who could hear the roaring, so he had to lead them in the right direction – but of course he had no clue where he was going. It was up to Steve to take over their panicked flight and guide him forward once he had established the correct direction they should go. Tree branches he couldn't see slapped at his face and neck; he jerked back with a hiss of pain as one left a nasty scratch just beneath his eye. He knew Steve was doing his best, swinging the shield like a scythe, trying to knock aside those low branches, but not even Steve could get them all.

The roar came again, further away. He crashed to a halt, dragging Steve with him. He hesitated, then pointed in a new direction. "There. Go."

On and on they ran, and Tony kept up a running commentary, too – and oh great, now he was making puns. It was stupid, he knew it was stupid, but he was helpless not to.

"Jesus, Cap. Watch where you're going!"

"I think it's farther away now… Nope, it's not. Come on!"

"If you guys are sitting back and watching this on a big screen TV with a big tub of popcorn, I am going to kill you. Every damn one of you. You too, Banner. Don't think I don't know that you're sitting there with that innocent 'who me?' face." 

They ran onward. Something sharp and solid impacted with his foot. He shouted aloud as he stumbled and went down hard on one knee. Borne forward by sheer momentum, Steve kept going for a couple steps before he stopped – and for a few awful seconds, Tony felt his left arm wrenched upward at a horrible angle. Pain flared bright and hot in his shoulder, and he yelled in alarm, terrified that the joint was about to give.

Thankfully Steve came to a halt before that could happen. The unbearable strain on his shoulder lessened, then went away completely as Steve retraced his steps.

A hand touched his face where blood was slowly trickling down from the scratch under his eye. And out of the blue, Tony felt the craziest urge to lean into that touch, to surrender to the terrifying blackness surrounding him and just let Steve take over.

And that was…yeah. Never going to happen.

Equally scared to death and pissed off at himself, Tony batted Steve's hand away. They didn't have time for this.

He climbed to his feet, pointed in what he hoped was the right direction, and they began to run again.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve guessed that it was near noon when they finally stopped to rest. For the last hour or so they had merely been walking, not running, but the strain was starting to show. Although he could have gone on all day, Tony clearly needed a break.

Through sheer chance, they had somehow managed to stumble across the same stream from yesterday. Here, though, it was wide enough and deep enough to be called a small river. He led Tony to the water, then stopped and wrote the word on Tony's palm. As he traced the letters, Tony just nodded wearily and made a curt circular gesture beside his ear. This pointed reminder that he could hear the running water made Steve clench his jaw tightly in frustrated anger.

His blank gaze fixed on nothing, Tony disconnected the Iron Man gauntlet from the arc reactor, then held it out. Steve took it from him and watched as Tony slowly lowered himself to his knees beside the water's edge. He leaned forward until he could reach the water with his right hand, then he began to drink.

The day was cloudy and cool, windy enough that Steve suspected it would rain again later. He stood at the water's edge, a silent sentinel, looking around continuously for any signs of danger. It had been just after sunrise when he had seen the stricken fear that had widened Tony's eyes and sent him bolting to his feet. At the time he had been bewildered by Tony's actions, but now he had no doubt that Tony had saved their lives. Some kind of creature did indeed live in the Forest – something that did not take kindly to their presence.

He glanced back at Tony, and frowned. Something was not right. Tony was still on his knees, right hand cupped at his mouth, water dripping between his fingers. His left hand lay in his lap, fingers curled loosely upward; his arm was pressed tightly to his side. It was not at all a natural pose, and Steve's blood ran cold at the sight.

They had both tripped and stumbled a lot during that frantic run through the Forest, but only one incident stood out in Steve's memory, one time when Tony had fallen. When Tony went down, Steve had worried that he was hurt, but the panicked urgency of their flight had driven such thoughts from his mind. It was obvious now, though, that Tony had in fact injured himself in the fall.

_Or rather, I hurt him,_ he thought. He remembered all too well the way he had run on after Tony had fallen. He hadn't meant to; it was a result of his forward momentum and panic combined. But apparently it had been enough. Another step and he would have been literally dragging Tony through the undergrowth.

Shuffling his feet, making as much noise as he could, he approached the stream. Tony went very still, his right hand joining his left in his lap. 

He knelt on Tony's left and reached for his hand. Tony stiffened and resisted at first, but at last he scowled and allowed Steve to draw his hand away from his lap. He kept his upper arm tight against his side, though, and that alone told Steve pretty much everything he needed to know.

With his fingertip, he wrote, _Youre hurt._

Tony made a face. He seesawed his other hand back and forth, speaking words Steve could not hear or understand. Then he took Steve's hand, getting his skin wet as he wrote, _Not bad. Ill be fine._ He paused, then utterly shocked Steve by writing: _Not your fault._

Since Steve had been expecting the exact opposite of this statement, he didn't quite know how to react. He was pretty sure that Tony _did_ in fact blame him, but preferred to deflect attention from the injury by pretending that he didn't. 

Even worse though, Steve _knew_ it was a lie. It was his fault. Tony was utterly dependent on him to make sure he didn't get hurt. He should have let go the moment he felt Tony start to fall. He should have done a better job of keeping the tree branches back – he had to resist the urge to touch the cut on Tony's face, as though he could erase it simply with his touch.

Last night, he had shouldered the blame for the situation they found themselves in, but he had not done it willingly. This was as much Tony's fault as his, arguing in public in front of their alien hosts, giving a very bad impression to anyone who saw their obvious tension and hostility. He doubted the Matriarch would have found it necessary to turn to her sages and learn what they foretold for him and Tony, had they not forced her hand by making it appear that they could not work together or even be on the same team.

He couldn't say any of that to Tony, though. Not now. Not when it took too long to "say" even the simplest of ideas. He had the ability to look Tony in the eye – the same could not be said for Tony. Until then, until they could discuss this as equals, he would say nothing about guilt or blame.

But this, however… This was clearly his fault. And he had to do something about it.

_Im sorry,_ he traced on Tony's palm.

With another impatient scowl, Tony yanked his hand back. Speaking slowly, over-enunciating so there could be no doubt what he was saying, he said, "Not. Your. Fault." And Steve understood him just fine – even if he didn't believe it. 

Out here in the woods with no supplies of any kind, there was little he could do in terms of field medicine. Normally he would offer to rig a sling to support Tony's injured shoulder, but now that was not an option – Tony needed both hands free. He was pretty sure, too, that such an offer would be rejected anyway.

That just left the thin laceration beneath his eye, where a branch had cut him. It was already red and puffy, and looked painful – just one more stab of guilt in Steve's chest.

He reached for Tony's hand again – and was again met with resistance at first. _That cut needs to be cleaned._

Tony just frowned and shook him off.

_Im serious,_ Steve said. _We cant risk infection out here._

In short, clipped motions, Tony turned his hand over and wrote, _Its fine leave me alone._

He wanted to. He knew he should. Pushing the matter would only make Tony angrier. But he couldn't let it rest. He had been in the trenches. He had seen what happened when even minor wounds were left dirty and untended. And in this alien forest, there was no telling what bacteria was lurking.

_Please just do this,_ he said.

_Get off me,_ was the immediate reply. This was accompanied by a verbal warning that Steve couldn't understand. He didn't need to, though. The look on Tony's face said it all.

_Why are you being so stubborn?_ he wrote. _This doesnt—_

Tony didn't let him finish. He pulled his hand away, then gave Steve a firm shove. It was such a juvenile, unexpected move that Steve was rocked back on his heels.

Normally he would have stood up and walked away so they could both cool down. But he could not walk away now. There was only one way they could communicate. Stubbornly, he reached for Tony's hand.

Shouting in silent fury, Tony swung at him.

Steve ducked, and Tony lunged at him again. He used his injured left arm this time, and though the move obviously pained him, he showed no sign of stopping.

Steve made a rapid decision. He knew Tony's anger wasn't directed solely at him, but also at their unbearable situation, and the people who had done this to them. It just happened that Steve was the only target he could reach, the only one he could loose his anger on. Steve understood all that. But this had gone way out of control. He had to stop Tony now, before he hurt himself still further, before the gap between them grew too wide to ever be bridged.

He dodged another swinging fist, then went in low. He wrapped both arms about Tony, and drove him down to the ground. He thought he would pin him there until he came back to his senses and they could talk about things rationally.

Instead Tony slammed a knee into his thigh, rolled to one side, and very nearly managed to throw him off.

Surprised again – and ready to concede now that it was high time to stop underestimating Tony's fighting abilities – Steve tightened his grip and rolled with him.

Hitting, kicking, they rolled right into the river.

Steve was on the bottom when they hit the water. It was not very deep – but it was deep enough. With no sound at all, the water closed over his head, shockingly cold and clear. His eyes flew open and for a split second he viewed the world from underwater, staring wildly as Tony shouted at him. Then he bolted upright, gasping for breath.

In that first moment, Tony was still on top of him, his features contorted with fury, yelling something Steve could not hear. It was the simplest thing in the world to twist and turn, then give one mighty shove, so that he dumped Tony facefirst into the river.

_There,_ he thought with satisfaction. That would both dampen Tony's temper and clean the cut beneath his eye, all in one go.

And it worked like a charm. Tony wrenched himself up to his knees, water streaming from his hair and face. He made no move to attack Steve again.

Steve's triumph died immediately, though. Tony wasn't fighting him anymore, it was true, but that was only because he wasn't doing anything at all. He just knelt there in the water, his eyes huge and staring. Both hands were held protectively over the arc reactor, and his face was ashen. Even in the utter silence, Steve could practically hear the short gasping sounds he made as he fought for breath.

Although the silence had only been upon him for two nights and a day, Steve had already stopped trying to speak, giving it up as a lost cause. His shock and worry were so great now though that he didn't even think. "Tony?"

Nothing happened, of course. He could not actually say it. But that did not stop him from leaning forward and putting his hand on Tony's shoulder.

And Tony… _cringed._ There was no other way to describe it. Steve touched him, and Tony cringed back, squeezing his eyes shut, his hands rising in a fearful attempt at shielding himself.

Horrified, Steve jerked his hand back and just stared.

The silence pressed down on him unbearably. He waited for something to happen, for Tony to look up and flash that quicksilver smile and say that he had only been joking. He wouldn't be able to hear the words, but that was all right. Just seeing Tony say them would be enough.

Time lengthened. Still Steve waited. He had seen this kind of thing before from POWs during the war, and once, disturbingly, from Bucky. He knew what made otherwise strong men react this way. What he did not know was the cause. He had a pretty good guess, of course, given that Tony had been just fine until he had gone under the water, but he still did not _know._

And it struck him suddenly, almost painfully, that even after spending two months around Tony Stark, both as Iron Man and the man himself, he still knew almost nothing about him.

At last Tony began to stir, opening his eyes and slowly lowering his hands. His gaze darted about, seeing nothing but still trying. He swallowed hard and said a single word. And although Steve's lip-reading skills had not improved any, he still recognized his own name.

There weren't many ways he could make the kind of noise that would reassure Tony. Splashing the water wasn't even an option he considered. For lack of anything better to do, he clapped his hands. Just once.

Tony froze, then relaxed. He turned to face Steve, no longer half-twisted away in an effort to avoid whatever torturous memory he had gotten lost in. He let his hands drop, but when they touched the surface of the water, he startled and yanked them back up again quickly. The color drained from his face and a powerful shudder worked through him.

It was definitely something about the water. And things were probably not going to get any better for him until they could get back on solid ground. Unfortunately, there was no way for Steve to communicate that without touch of one kind or another – and he was pretty sure that if he tried that now, Tony would be even more traumatized. 

Tony seemed to realize how close he was to freaking out, though. "Steve?" The word fell into the silence, but he could hear it in his mind, and worse, he could imagine the tremor in Tony's voice as he said it.

Tony spoke again, this time a longer sentence Steve could not puzzle out. He kept one hand pressed close to his chest, but tentatively reached out with the other. His hand was shaking, Steve saw without surprise. 

Sympathy – and yes, a little pity – melted the last of any anger he had been harboring toward Tony. Maybe Tony was partly to blame for their situation, but that did not make it right. He would not wish this fate on anyone, not even his worst enemy. He clapped again, just the once, remembering their simple system: once for yes, twice for no. Then carefully he raised his hand and placed it before Tony's, letting Tony be the one to make the actual contact.

When their fingers first touched, Tony drew back swiftly as though he had been burned. But right away he reached out again, overcoming that initial startled impulse. Watching him conquer his fear was humbling, and it reminded Steve all over again of all the things Tony Stark brought to the team, why he was now and would always be a hero.

Tony found his hand again and this time seized it and held on tight. He closed his eyes and let his head drop a little, nodding as if to himself. He said something then, or maybe just exhaled sharply – it was hard to tell.

For a while they simply stayed like that, their hands touching and nothing else. Then a gust of wind stirred Steve's hair and sent ripples over the water's surface. He shivered, suddenly aware that he was still kneeling in the river. Furthermore, he was _cold_ , soaked from head to toe, water dripping from his hair and down the back of his neck. The cold and the unnatural silence combined to make him shiver again, and he knew he had to get moving or else risk feeling the ice start to close in around him.

Slowly, taking pains not to unclasp their hands, he stood up. Tony flinched back at first, then seemed to figure it out. He too stood up, and like Steve, he made no move to break their clasped hands.

Together they walked from the river. Steve glanced over and saw that Tony was talking, an endless flow of words that he could not hear. He guessed that Tony was trying to calm himself, or maybe making excuses, maybe even explaining himself and why he had reacted the way he had.

Once they were on solid ground again, he turned Tony's hand palm up and wrote, _Are you ok?_

Tony nodded. The first traces of surly anger were already returning to his eyes, although Steve suspected the emotion was directed inward this time, as he chastised himself for the behavior he was surely ashamed of. 

_Im sorry you had to see that,_ Tony wrote. _It wont happen again._

Steve hesitated, then took a chance. _Dont be an ass._

Tony looked up, startled. Then he suddenly laughed and nodded.

The wind kicked up, flattening Steve's wet tunic against his back, making him shiver. And he wasn't the only one. Cold chills shivered through Tony's frame, reminding Steve that they needed to do something quickly about their situation, before what was merely uncomfortable now became downright dangerous.

They could use the repulsor in the gauntlet to start a fire, but he questioned the wisdom of that. If the beasts who lived in the Forest were drawn to fire or smoke, they would be painting a large target on their backs. But on the other hand, they needed to get warm…

_We need to get out of these wet clothes,_ he wrote.

Tony's brows drew together. _You mean like naked?_

Steve snapped his fingers. Once. _Yes._

Tony grinned, a shark-like expression that contained little actual humor. _Why Steve Rogers I thought youd never ask._

Steve was not fooled. He knew this sudden appearance of high spirits was nothing but a lie designed to throw him off the scent, to make him forget what had just happened.

And that was all right, he decided. He could believe the lie. For now. It was too difficult to talk about something so serious when all they had were letters traced on each other's skin. It could wait until later, when they were back at the Citadel, their senses restored.

_What did I say about being an ass,_ he said. _Get out of those clothes. Body heat is best for getting warm._

Now it was Tony's turn to hesitate. He seemed surprised that Steve was being serious.

Steve walked over to his shield. He wasn't thrilled about using it for a seat, but he wasn't exactly keen to sit naked on the dirty ground, either. He set it down with the star facing up, choosing a spot beneath a large tree that would hopefully provide some shelter when it started to rain. Then he began to pull off his wet clothes.

Tony did not join him, however. He just stood there, his hands at chest level, an unhappy expression on his face. Something about the way he was holding his hands made Steve look twice – and he suddenly realized that in the two months he had been living in the Avengers Tower, he had seen Clint and Bruce and even Natasha walking around in their underwear, but never Tony.

Another surge of compassion welled up within him. Behind that rough, arrogant façade, Tony Stark was actually quite vulnerable. Maybe that was why he acted like such a jerk, Steve mused. So he could hide that side of himself from the rest of the world, and protect himself.

He walked over, scuffling his bare feet in the fallen leaves on the forest floor. He reached for Tony's hand. He met with brief resistance this time, but not for very long. Tony's fingers were cold, and his hands were shaking, but Steve was not sure if that was from being wet or from fright.

_We can sit on my shield,_ he wrote. _Back to back for body heat._

Immediately he saw the relief in Tony's eyes at learning that he would not be forced to face Steve with all his scars exposed. _I hope you dont think I always get naked on the first date,_ Tony said. He smirked, but it was surface-deep only; Steve could see the shame and unhappiness still lingering in his eyes.

If he had been able to talk, he would have continued the banter, making a joke and doing his best to ease Tony's mind. Instead he just gave Tony's cold fingers a squeeze, then wrote, _Hurry up. Im freezing._

_Yes sir Capsicle sir,_ Tony replied. He gripped the hem of his soaking wet tunic in both hands, hesitated, then quickly pulled it over his head and dropped it to the ground.

Steve had the distinct advantage here, still being able to see Tony in spite of the silence surrounding him. He had told himself that he wouldn't stare, but he couldn't help it. He had never seen the arc reactor like this before, or the terrible scars on Tony's chest. He had never appreciated just how _large_ it was – and for the first time he found himself wondering if it hurt, if Tony lived his life in constant pain and simply never said anything.

His musings were interrupted as Tony leaned over and pulled off his shoes. In one single move, he hooked his thumbs beneath the waistband of the gray trousers the aliens had dressed him in, and pushed both trousers and his underwear down to his ankles. He kicked the wet garments away, and then he just stood there, chin lifted defiantly, naked and alone in the dark.

And this time, nothing stopped Steve from staring. Because he had never known, never guessed, never imagined that beneath those suits, both metal and silk, Tony was hiding _this._

"My God, Tony, you're beautiful," he said, trusting the silence to keep his secret.

The wind kicked up again, flattening his hair and setting them both to shivering – and for the tiniest instant, Steve almost thought he could hear it. Then it was gone, only silence pressing down on him. 

He crossed the space between them, fully aware that Tony could feel the weight of his stare. Even before he got there, Tony was reaching out, making that beckoning gesture that meant he had something to say.

Steve let him take his hand. He watched as Tony traced on his palm, _Someday youll get the full story but for now quit staring at me and lets do this thing. Im freezing too you know._

He considered his answer carefully. _Im going to hold you to that,_ he said. He left it at that, though. He just led Tony over to the shield.

They sat down, back to back, as he had planned. He pulled his knees up and rested his forearms on them. The wind tugged at his hair and made him shiver. The world around him was deathly silent, so quiet and still that he wondered when he would start to go insane from all that silence. As time went on, maybe he would imagine he could hear things more and more often, until the weight of all that silence finally smothered him completely.

Behind him, Tony twisted around. _Ok?_ The word was written high on his shoulder blade.

Crap. He hadn't realized Tony could feel him shuddering. He forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down. He had to do better. He had to remember that.

Resolutely he clapped his hands once, for yes.

They sat there for a while, the cool breeze drying the water from their skin. He was uncomfortable and his front was still cold, but the warmth of Tony's back pressed to his felt good. He closed his eyes and focused on that sensation, and tried not to think about what Tony looked like naked, or the way the arc reactor glowed so bright when there was nothing to cover it up.

The wind gusted again. At his back, Tony shivered convulsively, and it was the easiest thing in the world to turn around and embrace him, his chest to Tony's back, arms encircling him from behind.

Tony stiffened at first, his hands flying up to clutch at Steve's wrist, like he wanted to pry Steve's arms away. Then slowly he relaxed, even leaning back a little into the embrace. He continued to hold onto Steve's arm, but now it was more of a reciprocal gesture, not a defensive one.

Steve lowered his head so he could rest his chin on Tony's shoulder. After a pause, Tony tilted his head slightly, strengthening the contact.

In the silence, rain began to fall.

Tony heaved a sigh. Steve pressed him close, and let the rain wash over them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is now fan art for this story! Please check out the amazingly talented Whippy's art at [her Tumblr](http://whipbogard.tumblr.com/post/40690525706/unpleasant-circumstances-forced-steve-and-tony-to#tumblr_notes).

They were laughing at him.

His eyes were shut so he couldn't see them, but he could hear them. They stood over him as he lay on the wet floor, curled up tightly around the battery, protecting it. They laughed as he shook and coughed and trembled.

Harsh voices spoke. He only understood one word: Jericho.

He knew what they were asking, but he said nothing. He just lay there, shaking and coughing. A booted foot drove into his ribs. Shockwaves of pain traveled through his chest, wringing a cry from him.

They asked it again. Jericho.

Desperate, he clung to the battery and shook his head.

They kicked him again. Jericho. Jericho. _Jericho._

Rough hands hauled him to his feet. He did not dare open his eyes. They dragged him forward. Water splashed.

"Yes!" he cried as he broke. "Yes, I'll do it, I'll do it, yes, just don't, God, don't, please…"

For an endless eternity they still held him. He trembled in their grip, awaiting judgment. Then one of them spoke. The hands let him go. He fell to the floor, the battery still cradled in his arms.

And Tony woke, moving seamlessly from one nightmare to another.

****

This one, thankfully, did not last very long. All the elements were there – darkness, water streaming over his face, hands holding him – but for some reason he could not explain, they never quite coalesced into something terrible. It was bad, yes, and he could feel himself struggling against those constricting arms when he first woke up, but that mindless fear did not last very long.

When full awareness returned, Tony found that he was sitting on something very hard and metallic. One strong arm encircled him from behind, holding him up. A warm hand was rubbing soothing circles on his back. It was still raining, and he was very hungry, very cold, and very wet. 

"Well," he sighed into the black. "I've certainly woken up in worse situations before."

Behind him, Steve stirred. The hand drawing circles on his back paused, then traced a question mark. _Tony?_

He nodded. "Yeah," he said, because even now he couldn't stop talking. It didn't matter that Steve couldn't hear him. If he didn't speak out loud, he would soon start to believe that he was as deaf as Steve, and that would be very, very bad.

And speaking of very bad things, he had to deal with what had happened before this, what had gone down at the water's edge, and after. Instinctively he hunched his shoulders and started to bring his arms up in order to hide the arc reactor, but he managed to stop himself before he got very far. Doing that wouldn't prevent Steve from seeing anything he hadn't already seen, and anyway, Steve's arm was still there at his chest, holding him close so they could share body heat against the chill of the day.

So. Steve had discovered the gory scars on his chest, and worse, his phobia of being underwater. It pissed him off, but he had to admit to a certain sense of relief about it, too. Those things were out there now, and Steve hadn't turned away in disgust or pity (not that he would, given their circumstances, but still…) He had fewer secrets now, fewer things to hide. Now Steve knew for certain just how imperfect he was. It would make life with Steve back at the Tower that much easier, now that he no longer had such impossible standards to live up to.

 _Are you okay?_ Steve asked.

He nodded, not wanting to turn around so Steve could take his hand to write on.

 _The rain is letting up,_ Steve wrote. His fingers traced the letters on Tony's back, right between his shoulder blades. It felt weird, a little ticklish, and strangely enough, a little too comfortable. He shifted uneasily beneath that touch, and that only served to remind him that Steve's other arm was still pressed to his chest – and the arc reactor.

He reached up to dislodge the offending limb. Steve could have held him there with no effort at all, but to his relief, he was released, and suddenly he was all alone under the rain. The loss of the physical contact with Steve made him feel the cold more keenly, and also left him strangely bereft. Like he needed that touch somehow. 

"Not good," he muttered. "Not good. At all."

The wind gusted, and his head snapped to the side as he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. There was nothing there, though. Just the sound of the wind in the trees, and God, he really _was_ losing it.

 _Beast?_ Steve wrote, and crap, he hadn't realized that Steve would see his reaction and immediately assume the worst.

Tony twisted around so he could take hold of Steve's hand. _Nothing. False alarm._

Steve did not reply right away. He imagined the way Steve must be looking right now, torn between pursuing the subject and believing him. At last he felt Steve turn his hand over. _I can see a break in the clouds._

That was good. He was tired of being wet. He was also tired of being blind and hungry and lost in a scary forest on a strange alien planet, but hey, you couldn't have everything, could you?

Steve's hand was warm in his. And that fast, he abruptly became aware of just how naked he was, sitting so close to Steve that he could feel the warmth of Steve's also-naked body. Not only was he aware of it, but certain parts of him were definitely starting to show an interest in that fact.

Annoyed with himself, Tony shifted his weight so his lower body was more firmly facing away. He knew good and well that his physical attraction to Steve was a big reason there was so much tension between them. But mostly it was there because he had been primed from the start to dislike Steve Rogers.

How could he not? Perfect, noble Steve Rogers. Strong, heroic Captain America. His father had gotten it wrong on that long-ago film. Howard Stark's greatest creation was _himself_ , first and foremost. But closely behind that came Captain America, his first and most beloved son. Tony, the son he had never really wanted or come close to understanding, was a distant third – and some days he doubted he ranked even that high.

Meeting Steve had pretty much fulfilled all his expectations of the man, and if most of that inauspicious first meeting was made under the influence of Loki's staff, well, that didn't make the base impulses any less true.

Tony had grown up in the media, and in the world of high-stakes corporate politics, where every word was a lie and any expression of caring or concern only masked a sly, greedy desire to learn a person's weaknesses and exploit them. He was a master at charm and manipulation, having learned such tactics at an early age. It was the only way to survive growing up under such a ruthless, relentless spotlight. And for most of his life, he had thought that was just how it was, how it would always be.

Until he met Steve Rogers. Who was unlike anyone he had ever known. Honest, straightforward, sincere, and painfully earnest. When Steve asked, "How are you?" he truly wanted to hear the answer. And when Steve pulled him aside and demanded to know if he was hurt after a battle, it wasn't so he could publicly point out his weaknesses and privately exploit them later. It was because he was genuinely concerned.

It was hard to get used to.

Steve's hand touched his back. _Hows your shoulder?_

Tony pursed his lips and forced himself to focus on the here and now. His shoulder hurt, truth be known, but it was not as bad as it could have been, and he knew it. He guessed that it was merely sprained; he could still use the arm, which was a good sign. 

Carefully he turned around again, just enough that he could take Steve's hand. _Okay,_ he wrote.

There was no answer at first. Under normal circumstances, if Steve were able to talk, if he could look Steve in the eye, (or more accurately, avoid that piercing gaze), that would not have been the end of the conversation. But it was too frustrating and it took too long to communicate this way, and Tony figured he wasn't the only one who was feeling tired and discouraged. Still, the silence drew out for so long that for a little while he actually thought Steve had accepted his response.

Naturally, he should have known better.

 _We should stay,_ Steve said. _I can make a sling._

Tony shook his head. They couldn't stay here. They were slowly starving – and they would not find food just by sitting on their ass. As long as they followed the stream, water would be plentiful, but the lack of food was already a major problem. He had gone for longer than this without eating before, but those voluntary fasts when he was hard at work on a new project were totally different. His attention was on the work then, not the growing pain in his stomach. And while it was bad for him, he had no idea what their enforced fasting was doing to Steve's super-soldier metabolism. There was every chance that even Captain America's vaunted strength would fail them if they could not find something to eat soon. If they did not get moving now, and keep moving, they would end up so weak and exhausted that they would never reach the Citadel and have the spell broken.

And _that_ thought, of spending the rest of his short, miserable life blind and helpless, was enough to set his heart racing. No way. No _fucking_ way.

Nope, they were not staying here. Moving on meant walking naked and barefoot (or in wet and muddy clothes – which frankly, was not a very appealing alternative) through the rain and the mud. And Tony wasn't exactly excited about that idea. But it had to be done. There was simply no other choice.

 _Stay until it stops raining,_ he wrote on Steve's palm. _Then we go._ Now that he had thought of them, he wondered where their clothes were, if they were still lying in the mud where they had fallen.

 _No. We stay here,_ Steve wrote, using his hand as canvas this time, not his back.

Stupid, how he missed that more intimate touch. He told himself not to think about it. _We need to keep going,_ he said.

 _We need to rest,_ Steve said, and Christ, it was no wonder the Matriarch had looked at them and thought that they would never be able to work together. Even now they were still arguing.

 _And thats what were going to do,_ Steve said, then let go of his hand. Both arms came up to embrace him once more, reminding him of how cold he was – and also neatly ending the discussion by foiling his ability to write on Steve's palm.

Or so Steve thought. Tony was never one to let someone else get the last word in. He reached up and found Steve's wrist, then wrote: _Cheater._

Behind him, small tremors of laughter worked through Steve's frame.

Satisfied now, somehow content to still call this a victory even though he had clearly lost, Tony let himself sink back into that warm embrace.

****

"…corn on the cob and those little biscuits that Clint makes. I don't know what he puts in them, but I could eat a whole pan of them right about now. Screw the carbs."

Steve drew a _?_ on his palm.

Tony sighed. _Im hungry._

_Me too._

It was too bad they were both such city boys. Not that being woodsy would have helped much, he thought dourly. This was an entirely different planet. No amount of Earth knowledge would be able to tell them which plants and roots were safe to eat.

 _Tomorrow,_ Steve wrote on his palm. _We will find something._

"Sure we will," he muttered. "Like what?" 

Steve's weight shifted, then pressed close again. They sat side by side, a wide tree at their back. It had been a very long day. At some point late in the afternoon, they had put their damp clothes back on again and trudged for a while through the Forest. Although they had stopped several times to drink, water only filled their stomachs for a short while. Tony couldn't remember when he had been so hungry. Even in the cave he had been fed better than this.

He sighed and tipped his head back. He wondered if there were a lot of stars out tonight. If there were clouds in the sky. If the light from the arc reactor was enough for Steve to see by. He used to think that losing the use of his hands would be the worst thing that could ever happen to him, but he was pretty sure now that being blind trumped even that.

At least he wasn't out here alone. And he wasn't defenseless. The Iron Man gauntlet lay on the ground, a reassuring metallic presence at his hip, where he could snatch it up at a moment's notice if necessary. He was sure Steve's shield was likewise close at hand, even though he couldn't see it.

"So I've decided that I don't give a shit about this planet," he said thoughtfully. "The Matriarch and her lovely people can go fly a kite. Let Thanos have it all. And by the way, Your Majesty, if you and your guys are watching, fuck you all.

"But you know what? You and your sick little game…you lose. We already won. Because we're here. Alive and…well, not so well maybe, but still. Not dead. And not doing so bad, really. We're gonna make it. Don't you doubt it."

A small voice in his head though, wondered if he was just trying to reassure himself of that fact.

Beside him, Steve drew another question mark on his palm.

Tony shook his head. _Lost in translation,_ he replied.

There was no point in saying anything else. It was just too damn difficult to carry on a conversation this way. He found it hard to pay attention to anything longer than a simple sentence, and he knew there were already occasions when he had missed something Steve was saying because he wasn't focused on what was being written on his skin.

It wasn't really his fault, though. He was a genius. His mind simply needed more stimulation than this. Always his thoughts raced ahead, coming up with new inventions and theories, solving new equations, seeking new challenges. To focus his mind solely on that touch on his palm was surprisingly hard, much more so than working on five projects at once.

Then there was the fact that thinking too much about the touch of Steve's hand, and the nearness of Steve's body, was another distraction – but of a very different kind. And he could not afford to let Steve find that out. So it was better not to risk it at all, and not talk too much.

Instead there was just this. This black, silent, boredom.

Tony sighed. It was going to be a long night.

****

Hours later, when the air held the coolness of night, a loud bellowing roar jolted him from sleep. It was close, oh shit it was _too_ close. He could hear the snapping of undergrowth as the thing lumbered toward them.

He shouted in alarm, berating himself for his thoughtlessness in falling asleep. Frantically he pawed at Steve with one hand, while fumbling for the gauntlet with the other. It wasn't where he had left it, though, and with a flash of panic he realized he must have knocked it aside when he lay down to sleep. He began to feel along the ground, cursing steadily the entire time.

Steve's hand tugged at his shoulder. His fear must have been contagious, because it was his injured shoulder Steve grabbed, and he knew Steve would never have done that if he were thinking clearly. He couldn’t stop the pained cry that burst from his lips, and he twisted away, reflexively cradling his arm to his chest.

In the Forest, the beast-thing roared again. The crashing noise was much louder now.

His stupid shoulder could wait. Tony dropped to all fours and slapped in desperation at the ground. "Where is it?" he yelled.

A moment later the gauntlet was all but shoved beneath his reaching grasp. He lurched upright, the glove already half-on, flexing the metal joints as they settled about his fingers.

There would be no running away this time.

He finished hooking up the gauntlet to the arc reactor and heard the repulsor whine to life. He pointed it in the direction the roaring was coming from, then turned to Steve. He pantomimed a roar of his own, praying that between the arc reactor and the repulsor, there was enough light for Steve to see whatever was out there.

Steve's hand squeezed his arm.

"Okay," he said.

The creature in the Forest bellowed again. It sounded freaking huge, and Tony licked his lips with nervous fright. It occurred to him that in his long history of making stupid decisions, this might well be the stupidest one of them all.

Steve's hand tightened abruptly on his arm. The thing must be visible now. He could smell it, too, a thick, rank odor that nearly made him gag. "Aim me," Tony muttered. He moved his arm in short, jerky motions, trying to pinpoint the source of the noises. "Come on, aim me."

And miraculously, Steve did. His arm was nudged a little to the right, then stopped.

Tony locked his elbow and waited. The beast-thing had gone still, but it continued to snort and huff angrily. His imagination conjured up a hairy thing that looked a little like a gorilla, a little like a buffalo, and a lot like a monster that would cheerfully stomp them to death before chowing down on their still-warm remains.

The creature snorted again. There was a sharp scraping noise, like it was pawing at the ground.

A sudden metallic clang rang out. Tony nearly jumped out of his skin, and barely managed to refrain from firing the repulsor.

The clang came again as Steve smashed his shield against the tree. Tony shouted loudly, adding to the noise, even though he doubted it would work. Whatever this thing was, its kind had reigned supreme in the Forest for too long; it had forgotten to be afraid of people. Still, it was worth a try.

An ear-splitting bellow shook the night. The creature pawed violently at the ground again, snorting several times. The smell was so thick now that it seemed to be clogging his lungs, making him want to retch.

"Okay," Tony said. "We pissed it off. That's great."

For a moment, silence descended in the woods. Then the beast charged.

He was suddenly reminded of Afghanistan, and his escape from the cave. _Let them come to you,_ Yinsen had said. _You will let them. You will wait. They will waste their strength. And when they are done, that is when you will strike._

Undaunted, Tony stood his ground. It was far too late to flee, and even if it wasn't, he'd be damned if he ran away again.

Steve tapped his arm.

He fired.

The beast screeched in agony. It crashed to the earth, a thunderous landing that actually made the ground shake; his imagination helpfully supplied little dust clouds puffing up, too. Just to be safe, Tony fired again.

The silence this time was far more profound. Tony was so wired he barely felt it when Steve pressed his arm, then let go and moved forward. He was listening harder than he ever had in his entire life, straining to hear the sound of animal breathing, a grunt, a snort, a pawing at the ground. Anything to indicate what to expect next.

What he heard was Steve. Clapping his hands.

He stood down then, letting his arm drop to his side. But only for a moment. In the next instant he flung his clenched fist into the air. "Yes!" he shouted. "Hell yes!" He was grinning like a fool, and he didn't even care.

"Dinner's on me," he said proudly.

The beast snorted.

Tony froze in shock, fist still raised stupidly in the air. A split second later he heard the sound of Steve scrambling backward, feet slipping and sliding in his haste.

Not a moment too soon, either. The beast roared and lumbered back to its feet.

"You gotta be kidding me." He took aim again – the thing was so close there was no need to be precise – and fired. This time he unleashed three blasts, one right after another, so there could be no chance of getting it wrong.

The creature went down again, hard. The ground shook all around them.

In the tense silence that followed, Tony hardly dared to breathe. Every muscle in his body was tight with strain, listening for any sounds of the thing coming to life again. He could feel Steve beside him, strung as taut as he felt.

Steve's hand clutched his arm, hard. An instant later, he heard a very angry growl.

"What the fuck?" Tony cried. "It's dead! I killed it!"

Steve began to drag him backward, and caught off balance, he staggered and nearly fell. Angry at losing his point of reference, he tried to throw off that steely grasp. Just who was Steve trying to fool? He didn't need to be able to see the creature to know how huge it was. Hell, he could _smell_ the size of it. There wasn't the slightest chance of running away. Just one leap would bring the thing right down on top of them.

Just as he was ready to aim the repulsor at Steve in order to make the man let go, he heard the beast snort and huff as it climbed to its feet again.

In utter disbelief, Tony turned back to face it. "No," he said. "You're dead."

The thing that would not die roared at them. This close, the sound was terrifying. A blast of hideous stench rolled over them, making Tony choke and gag. He took aim again, some distant part of him wondering why he even bothered, since it was clear that repulsor blasts had no effect on the thing. The rest of his brain was swiftly coming up with alternative ways of taking the beast down – and just as swiftly discarding them.

Beside him, Steve tensed, then let go of his arm.

Tony knew instantly what that meant. Steve was going to attack, using nothing but his bare hands and his shield.

The beast roared again.

"No!" Tony shouted. He could not let Steve do this. It was suicide. And anyway, there was no need. Steve shouldn't have to do this because the thing was _dead_ , he had killed it (twice!), it was dead, he was so certain of it, he absolutely believed it…

…and with a final, resounding crash, the beast fell.

This time, it stayed down.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who might have missed it, please be sure to check out the [absolutely beautiful fan art](http://whipbogard.tumblr.com/post/40690525706/unpleasant-circumstances-forced-steve-and-tony-to) for this story by the incredibly talented Whippy.

For a long time after the beast fell, Steve remained where he was, shield cocked and ready to throw, his other arm flung out in a desperate attempt at creating a barrier in front of Tony. His heart thundered silently in his chest; every leaf and twig of the Forest was crystalline clear. But at last his brain accepted what his remaining senses were telling him: the beast was genuinely dead.

Slowly he lowered the shield. Took a deep breath. Told himself sternly to stand down.

He turned toward Tony, who was still standing alert, arm outstretched, the hand in the gauntlet minutely shaking. The blue light of the arc reactor cast eerie shadows on his face as he stared blankly at the ground, listening for any sound that the beast was going to rise again.

Tentatively Steve touched his arm. Tony startled violently, but refrained from firing the repulsor, an effort of self-control that must have surely cost him dearly. He stood there, tense and alert, and waited for Steve to do something.

There were fresh bruises forming on Tony's arm in the space between his elbow and the hem of his tunic sleeve, where Steve had clutched his arm when the beast rose from the dead. Guilt-stricken, he soothed the marks with his fingers, then wrote, _Its dead._

Tony exploded in a flurry of speech, words Steve could not hear or even try to comprehend. A lot of expansive gestures accompanied those words, but they did not make it any easier to understand what he was saying.

Steve just stood there, patiently waiting for him to finish. He kept one eye on the beast, though; a part of him was still unable to believe that it was finally dead.

It was difficult to see details in the moonlight, but he could see enough. The creature was enormous, taller than Steve, and covered in short, dark fur. It looked something like a very large panther, but no jungle cat had ever been so tall, or had such sharp hooves. Thick horns swept back from its head, and wickedly sharp teeth were set in a huge jaw. Each of its legs was thicker than Steve's two combined. If it had attacked them, he reckoned they could have survived a full thirty seconds before it slaughtered them both.

Dead, the beast reeked worse than before, a foul heavy odor that seemed to clot in his nostrils and coat the lining of his throat; he grimaced when he swallowed, and swore he could taste it. The thing lay there, completely unharmed, with no sign of any injuries or damage taken from the repulsor blasts.

That was the thing he could not comprehend. Both times he had watched as the repulsors made bright patches of red, burned flesh bloom on the beast's hide. And both times, when it rose, it had suddenly appeared whole and uninjured in the blink of an eye.

The third time, Tony had never even fired. Steve had been seconds away from throwing his shield at the thing and hoping for the best. Then it had just dropped, for no reason he could see. That mystery made him overly wary, and deeply reluctant to take his eyes off the carcass. He kept expecting it to rise again at any second.

He jumped as Tony patted his arm with the hand still encased in Iron Man's gauntlet. Tony spread both hands then, eyebrows shooting up. Even without words, his meaning could not have been more clear.

Steve took his hand. _Its dead now. I dont understand what happened._

_I killed it,_ Tony replied. When he used his left hand, his lettering was somewhat awkward, and on occasion, flat out wrong. Steve didn't mind, though. It was actually a little bit of a relief to know that there was something the amazing Tony Stark was not good at.

_Yes but_ — He stopped there, unsure how to continue. Yes, but not right away. Yes, but it kept coming back to life. Yes, but without injuring it. Yes, but _how?_

Tony waggled his hand and widened his eyes again in a "well go on" gesture. Steve frowned in thought, then said, _I dont trust it not to come back again._

Tony's response was so fast it was a good thing Steve was able to see the letters as they were scrawled on his palm. _Neither do I but lets not ruin a good thing here. Dinner is served._

Steve looked back at the fallen beast, and made a face. If the stench was anything to go by, he suspected the taste would be pretty awful, too. And for all they knew, this thing would be toxic. Eating it might only seal their fate.

But they had to try it. They could not go another day without food. Tony was already hurt, and they were only going to get weaker as time went on. As risky as it was, they had to take the chance.

_I dont like it,_ he wrote, _but I dont think we have a choice._

Tony nodded. He said something, a short word or phrase that fell into the silence.

Steve turned back to the creature. They had only the repulsor and his shield. Butchering the beast was going to be bloody, disgusting work. And since he was the only one who could see, not to mention the only one uninjured, the bulk of that work was going to fall to him.

He took a deep breath. Might as well get started.

****

It turned out that barbecue-by-repulsor-blast was not the best way to cook meat. The end result came in only two flavors: charred or raw. Steve was so hungry, though, that he didn't care, and he suspected Tony felt much the same. The meat was dry and stringy and it tasted funny. Under normal circumstances he would have passed it by, but tonight he ate it gladly. He was no stranger to hunger, having grown up poor in the Depression, but that never made it any easier to cope with.

They ate until they were full, and then a new problem presented itself: how to carry some of the meat with them for future meals. He supposed he could use his tunic as makeshift sling-style bag, but that would leave him shirtless against the cold and the rain, a decidedly unappealing prospect.

_Should go,_ Tony wrote. _Others might come._

Steve sighed. It was nearly dawn now; they had been here all night, first butchering the animal, then satisfying their hunger. Yet the scent of blood had not drawn any other predators, none of this world's version of hyenas or vultures, those animals that scavenged off the dead. And that only served to make him think of another puzzling question.

_No animals here,_ he wrote. _This thing is taller than me. What did it eat?_

_Magic,_ Tony said. He made a face. _I hate magic._

Steve could have kicked himself. He remembered now what the Matriarch's advisers had told him, their voices hushed and barely above a whisper as they stood in the War Room. Dark energy, they had called it. Some kind of power that lived in the Forest, feeding the beasts that lived here, just as they fed it. He wondered how Tony had learned that information, then decided that it didn't matter. It was just as well that Tony already knew; it would be too difficult to try and explain it all with words written on Tony's hand.

The questions remained, though. If magic animated the creatures, did the loss of that magic make them die? Had they somehow managed to disrupt the flow of power?

_But I think it really was magic,_ Tony wrote. _It only stayed dead when I truly believed it was. Which is flat out disgusting. And stupid. But it worked._

Tony was grimacing, clearly unhappy with what he was saying. Not that Steve blamed him. It was frightening to think that their survival hinged on something as ephemeral as belief. Especially from a man as grounded in real-world science and engineering as Tony Stark.

Before he could reply, though, Tony's head jerked up. He stared in the direction of the stream, at the spot where Steve had knelt earlier, washing animal blood and gore off his shield.

Fear jolted through him. Tony was obviously hearing something. Another beast? His entire body tensed, ready to spring to his feet. "What is it?" he asked silently, breathing the words aloud out of sheer reflex.

Tony's head turned sharply again – this time toward him. He frowned, his gaze blank and blind but full of keen intelligence all the same. He did not look alarmed though, and Steve decided that whatever he had heard, it was not anything to be worried about.

_I have a question. We worked together to slay the dragon. So why am I still blind?_

The last part was unnecessary. As soon as Tony wrote "we worked together," Steve knew what he was going to say. In truth, he wondered the same thing. They had done the very thing the Matriarch had accused them of not being able to do. So why wasn't the spell broken?

_Have I ever told you how much I hate magic?_

He smiled wryly. Only three times a day, this past week at the Citadel. Now he supposed he would have to hear it five times a day.

Assuming he was ever able to hear again, that was.

_I dont know,_ he said. _Well figure it out though._

Tony's frown deepened. _Do that now?_

_No,_ Steve said. _Now we figure out how to carry this meat with us._

Tony thought for a moment. Then he wrote, _Shield._ He drew two short, parallel lines on Steve's palm. An equals sign. Then, _Platter._

Outraged, Steve yanked his hand away. He started to reach for Tony's hand, angry denial ready to write, when he saw the way Tony was smirking. Not with malice, but genuine amusement.

Steve sighed, his shoulders slumping a little at his own foolishness. Laughter was in short supply out here. They were going to need that, if they wanted to survive this. And it was good to see Tony smiling about something. It made a nice change from his earlier anger and hostility.

_Fine,_ he wrote. _Then you can carry it._

Humor danced in Tony's eyes. _Oh I would never dream of sullying your platter._

_Just for that,_ Steve said, _you can carry it on your head._

Tony laughed, one of those rare laughs that engaged his entire face, his eyes squinting shut. He shook his head in an _Oh Cap_ gesture that Steve had seen a little too often back at the Tower, usually with some accompanying remarks of condescension. It was just an expression of amusement today, though, and he did not mind.

He would never be glad for this experience, and he was certainly not grateful, but one thing was certain: he was learning a lot about Tony Stark. And he could not deny that this was good. In some cases, very good.

Wild horses couldn't drag it out of him, but he was selfishly, well, not _glad_ , but, okay, glad, that Tony had not been able to see him when they were sitting together on his shield. His body had betrayed his interest, his desire to see more of Tony. Even wet and shivering with cold, Tony was beautiful. He could have sat there for hours more, sharing warmth, Tony's body pressed against his.

Now was hardly the time or place to do anything about it, though. Once they returned to the Citadel and their senses were restored, maybe he would consider it then.

_My sages have assured me that in you two they have seen the potential for much greatness. Not only within your team, but for yourselves,_ the Matriarch had said. Steve no longer doubted that. But he could not let himself think about it too much. 

He and Tony needed to become friends first. Only then would there be a chance for something between them.

****

When the sun rose, they left the place where they had killed the beast.

They marched through the Forest the way they had for three days now: Steve carrying his shield at the ready, Tony wearing the Iron Man gauntlet. In spite of their newfound spirit of cooperation, Tony was hard-pressed to act like he didn't mind Steve leading him by the hand like he was five years old or something. He was Tony Stark, damnit. He was not a holding-hands kind of guy. He couldn't even remember the last time he had held someone's hand – and that included the times when he really had been five years old.

There wasn't a whole hell of a lot he could do about it, though, except suck it up and keep walking. That didn't mean he had to like it, though.

To keep his mind off Steve's hand in his, he thought about the maps he had seen of this planet. Most of them had focused on things like military installations and defenses, but he had studied far more than that. One of the things that had made him such a successful weapons manufacturer was his ability to take into account factors like the terrain where those weapons would be used. And what he remembered now was the size of the Forest. It was always shaded an unhealthy dark green on those maps, but it was never very big. He and Steve had been walking for three days now – and running for some of that time. By now they ought to be very close to the treeline, and the open land surrounding the Citadel. 

But Steve had not said anything about that. And given the nature of their problem, it seemed only logical to assume that Steve would be giving him a progress report – if there were anything to report.

Which meant something was up. Something fishy. Something…magical.

God, he hated magic!

Still, he had to accept that here on this planet at least, magic was a stone-cold fact. It was not an easy thing to accept. He was not Thor, who had grown up with magic. Even letting himself think such a thing made him uncomfortable. So he had decided that he would deal with it the way he would deal with a new mathematical variable that suddenly appeared in the equation he was working on – figure out what it stood for. If magic could kill an enormous beast and steal a man's sight and hearing, it could obviously do other things. 

So Tony had stood there listening to the gory sounds of Steve butchering the carcass, his shirt pulled down so the arc reactor provided light for Steve to see what he was doing. And he had tried his best to prove his new theory.

_We're back at the Citadel. We're back. I can feel the marble floor under my feet and hear them speaking in that alien language. We're back. We really are._

Nothing had happened, of course.

On that one though, he was willing to concede that maybe he could not make something happen for both himself and Steve. Maybe Steve had to be there with him, chiming in with his belief, both of them working together.

So he had made a different attempt, a more personal one. _I can see, I can see, I'm not blind, I'm going to open my eyes and I'm going to be able to see. I know I can. I_ know _it._

He had opened his eyes to nothing but purest black.

Defeated and disgruntled, he had not said a word to Steve of what he had tried to do. For all he knew, Steve had already tried it after he had explained how the concept worked.

And that was the weird thing. When he had told Steve about his belief slaying the beast, he could have sworn he saw movement again. Water rippling in the stream. Then, even more incredible, he had thought he heard Steve's voice. The barest whisper, the merest hint of sound…but Steve's voice nonetheless.

He had decided it was nothing but a trick of the wind…but he wondered. Oh yeah, he wondered.

They walked on, Steve holding his hand, Tony deep in thought. He was thinking about the beasts again, and the mystery of their presence. Back at the Citadel, he had asked around, getting little hints here and there about the things. But he had forgotten the rumors he had heard, how long ago, before things got too out of hand, people had lived in the Forest – and hunted the creatures.

He felt the metal beneath his foot a split second before he heard the ratcheting sound of the jaws slamming shut. It happened so fast, there was just enough time to realize what was going on, then the trap closed about his ankle, and he was on the ground, clutching at his leg.

But hey, at least he wasn't stuck holding hands with Steve anymore.

The pain was terrifying. He hadn't felt anything like this since the cave. He managed a sort of flailing roll that got him into a sitting position, then he slumped forward, reaching for whatever was clamped about his left ankle without quite touching it.

Whatever it was, it was heavy, and the jaws were made of metal. His mind conjured up images of rusty old bear traps, and he dared to lightly touch it with trembling fingertips. Even that small contact sent fresh pain bolting through his leg, and with a sharp cry, he yanked his hand back.

Something made contact with his left shoulder, warm and heavy, and he recognized it as Steve's hand in the very instant he panicked and threw himself to the right, trying to avoid that touch. The sharp wrenching movement was a huge mistake; he heard the rattle of a chain being pulled taut, then blinding agony exploded in his leg.

Tony threw his head back and screamed. He couldn't help it. He thumped onto the ground on his right side, left hand clutching at his leg just above where the metal jaws were buried in his flesh.

Steve's hand touched his shoulder again, lightly, almost fluttering, like he didn't know what to do. The image came to him of Steve kneeling over him, wide-eyed with indecision and fear. It was almost enough to make him laugh – except there was nothing at all funny about the situation. So instead of laughing he just lay there making disgusting, strangled sobbing noises while he fought to get himself back under control, and waited for the pain to recede enough that he could try sitting up again.

Again Steve touched his shoulder. Then there was a shuffling sound. This time the touch of Steve's hand came from behind him. More shuffling, then Steve was on his right, reaching first at his arm, then at the gauntlet covering his hand.

And yeah, that was okay, that was good. Get it off. Now was not the time. If any more beasts wanted to attack them now, let them come. He was hardly in a position to say no.

The gauntlet was released. Steve's fingers fumbled at the arc reactor and the wire that connected it to the gauntlet, giving it power. And _that_ was not okay, it was about the furthest thing from okay there was. He was already practically helpless – there was no chance in hell he was going to let anyone near the arc reactor.

Panic gave him strength. He swung blindly (oh ha ha) with his left fist, and felt the impact all the way up his arm as he landed a solid hit on Steve's face. He was aware that he was shouting, cursing and swearing and making all kinds of dire threats among the more mundane things like _get the fuck off me!_ , but he hardly cared. All he knew, all he wanted, was for those grabbing, reaching hands to leave him alone. It was bad enough that Steve had already inadvertently terrorized him out here. He could not endure it a second time.

And Steve, thank God, backed off. Tony unhooked the wire himself and flung it aside, and then he was sitting up, clutching at his leg again, right fist raised in an unmistakable gesture. And it occurred to him that was it a damn good thing Steve had removed the gauntlet first, or he would have a smoking hole in his forehead, not just a bruise.

Christ, he had to get it together. Breathing heavily through clenched jaws, he said, "Stay back. I mean it." He knew Steve couldn't hear him or read his lips, but that didn't matter. Even Steve would know what he said.

He waited a few seconds to make sure the message was received. Steve did not intervene again, though, and with a tremulous sigh, Tony leaned down to examine the thing he had stepped in.

Even the lightest touch hurt. With shaking hands he explored the shape of the trap, running his fingers over the sharp teeth that lined the metal jaws. He counted eight of those teeth currently embedded in his leg just above the ankle, four on each side. There wasn't much blood. Not yet, at any rate. It was impossible to tell if any bones were broken, but the way his luck was going, he figured he might as well assume the worst.

Broken or not, there was no way he could walk now. Steve was either going to have to leave him here and make the journey to the Citadel alone and then bring back help, or else carry him the rest of the way. And he already knew what Steve would do. Leaving him alone in the Forest, blind and crippled, was simply not an option.

Involuntary tears of pain stood in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. A jagged laugh escaped him. "Oh shit, Steve. It really sucks to be you right now, doesn't it? I mean, I figured this whole thing was just an excuse to make us work together and get closer, but this is just fucking ridiculous." He laughed again, brittle and edging toward hysteria, and even that small jiggling motion set off fresh pain in his leg and made him gasp. It was probably for the best though, because the pain grounded him, quelling that rising hysteria.

After a long moment, Steve's hand touched his arm. At least Steve remained on his right this time. He couldn't really blame Steve though for grabbing at his left shoulder earlier, because the poor guy had plenty of other things on his mind instead of having to worry about coddling Tony Stark.

Slowly Steve's fingers slid down his arm, toward his hand. He let Steve take it, although he wasn't sure how well Steve could write anything there when his hand was shaking so badly he couldn't even hold it still.

To his surprise, Steve did not try to write a message. Instead he felt his hand lifted, and warm lips pressed a kiss to his shaking fingers.

Startled, Tony did not move. Steve's warm breath ghosted over his knuckles. Another kiss touched his fingers.

It was such a simple gesture of comfort and reassurance, and yet it worked wonders. The pain and the fear did not go away, but Tony suddenly found that he could cope with them. He nodded. "Okay. Yeah. Okay."

Steve kissed his hand a third time – he was no longer shaking – and then lowered it enough to write. _Ill get you out of there I swear. Youre going to be all right._ Then Steve was embracing him, holding him tight, careful not to jostle his leg. Tony twisted to the side so he could return the favor, clinging to Steve with all his strength.

_You're going to be all right._ And the strangest thing of all on that already incredibly strange day was that even then, terrified, in agony, and still utterly blind, he believed it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some blood and gore in this chapter, so please be warned if that sort of thing is a trigger for anyone.
> 
> Also, I am not a medical professional. Please do not take anything in here as true medical knowledge. Better yet, just don't step in any bear traps, k?

Steve had honestly thought the worst was behind them.

They had survived the beast, and they had worked together to do so. After this, there was surely nothing left for them to face.

He knelt there now on the forest floor, holding Tony in his arms, and he could have screamed in frustration and despair – if he had a voice.

He had no idea what to do next. But he had made a promise. He was going to keep that promise. He wasn't quite sure _how_ he was going to do it, but he knew he would. If their roles had been reversed, Tony would find a way. He could do no less.

Already Tony was growing agitated again. He was white with shock and pain, trembling all over. Steve held him close, wishing that his mere thoughts alone could reach out and calm Tony. He could not imagine how it must feel to be so badly hurt, yet be unable to see the injury itself. He could not begin to comprehend how terrified Tony must be right now.

_Please,_ he thought. _Please let this work. I don't have to be able to hear it. But let him hear me. Please. I can do this. I will do this._

"Tony." To him there was no sound, no indication that he was even making any noise at all. Yet he persevered. If he could only talk, it would make things so much easier for them both. He could explain the situation to Tony, describe what he was about to do, make him feel not so lost and alone in the dark. 

"Tony, can you hear me?"

But there was nothing. Tony did not react, and with a silent sigh, Steve admitted defeat.

He gave Tony one last firm hug, then sat back, putting some space between them. He reached for Tony's hand. _Im going to look at—_

He did not get to finish. Tony pulled his hand back and nodded. He seemed to say something, but it was difficult to be sure. Judging by the way his shoulders were hitching, he was breathing in tight, pained gasps, which made it harder to tell when he was speaking.

Steve moved over to the trap. A short, heavy chain was connected to a thick post that had been driven into the ground. He had seen the post as he walked by, and he deliberately steered Tony clear of it, but he had not seen the trap itself. It had lain hidden beneath the fallen leaves and undergrowth that was so prevalent along the forest floor. It could just as easily have been himself who stepped on it.

The trap itself was large, obviously made for the enormous beasts that lived in the Forest. The teeth were rusty with age, but still quite sharp. Eight of those teeth were buried in Tony's leg, although two of the wounds were not very deep. There was not much blood, but he knew that would change once he got the trap apart.

Which he had to do. Now.

The first step was to make some bandages. His tunic had been used to make a sack for carrying the meat left over from yesterday's kill. The simplest thing now would be to ask Tony to remove his tunic so he could use that, but Steve dismissed that idea right away. Tony was probably already going into shock; he needed to conserve his body heat as much as possible. Instead Steve used his teeth and fingernails to rip the fabric of one leg of his loose trousers, unraveling it into one long strip from just below the knee right down to the cuff.

Tony sat very still while this was happening, leaning back on his hands, arms braced behind him. He was skewed to the right, though, either unwilling or unable to put too much weight on his left shoulder. Looking at him only reminded Steve of how badly he had failed Tony during their ordeal. He was supposed to do better than this.

Gently he set his right hand on Tony's knee. Tony startled, flinching back. Immediately he froze, his face tightening with pain. He said something, then seemed to laugh.

Steve could imagine the bitter note to that laughter. He scooted a little closer. He wanted to tell Tony what was about to happen, ease his fear and reassure him that everything would be all right. But there was not time.

He trailed his hand down Tony's leg. The lower he got, the more Tony tensed up. When he first took hold of the metal jaws of the trap, Tony bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut.

Steve took a deep breath.

Tony nodded.

He got a good grip, fitting his fingers in between the metal teeth, and pulled. Not a fierce, hard yank that would only hurt Tony worse, but a smooth, steady pull meant to slowly pry the jaws apart.

And nothing happened. The trap did not open.

Sick dread knotted in Steve's stomach. He put all of his strength into it, his arms shaking with the strain. And still nothing happened.

"No," he gasped into the silence. "Come on. Come on!" But the trap did not budge.

He glanced up, and felt even sicker. Tony was in agony, his head thrown back, the cords standing out on his neck. He might have been trying to remain manfully silent, or he might have been crying aloud with the pain. Steve would never know. All he did know was that he had to stop.

He let go of the trap, and instantly Tony shook his head wildly. He sat up straight and made urgent hand motions, insisting that Steve keep at it.

But there was no point. The trap would not open by any physical means. Steve knew that now. It was enchanted. It had been designed to hold a large beast, one that was animated by magic, one that could dislodge or even remove the trap just through its sheer size and strength. Even the Hulk would not be able to pull it apart.

Only one thing would get it open. He closed his eyes, deliberately shutting out the sight of Tony's frantic efforts at getting him to try again. The darkness behind his eyelids was not absolute; the day was too bright for that. But it still frightened him, not being able to see anything. The lack of vision made the silence surrounding him seem that much more oppressive.

_I can open this,_ he thought firmly. _This is easy. It will work because I_ know _it will._ He believed it with all his heart, with the same faith he had that the light in his bedroom would come on when he flipped the switch. It was the same thing. The same simple, pure belief.

He opened his eyes. He reached out, and with no effort at all, pulled the trap apart.

The instant the teeth were clear of Tony's leg, Steve threw the hateful thing off to the side. He looked down and saw blood welling up from the wounds, thick and red. Worse, Tony appeared to be in more pain than before; his entire body was rigid and shaking, and he had gone a ghastly shade of white.

"Hold on," Steve said soundlessly. He shifted over and slid his left arm beneath Tony's knees. He wrapped his other arm about Tony's upper body, then stood up. 

Tony slapped at him, awkward and without any real strength to the blow. Steve ignored him and just started walking. Carrying him was the easiest thing he had done since he had woken up deaf and mute on that beach four days ago.

He knelt down at the water's edge, the river that they were continuing to follow as it wound toward the Citadel. He set Tony down, then eased his left leg forward until it was submerged in the water up to his knee.

Tony arched up and uttered a silent scream. Instinctively he struggled against Steve's hold, trying to pull his leg out of the water. Steve just firmed up his grip and made sure Tony's ankle did not leave the water. He hated to do it, but those wounds had to be cleaned. The trap had been covered in rust and dirt; the risk of infection was terribly high.

Tony struck out at him again, thrashing mindlessly in his pain. Grimly Steve held on, watching the water run red with Tony's blood. _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._ He prayed Tony did not associate this with whatever horrors lurked in his memory regarding water, but even if he did, it could not be helped. This had to be done.

Tony's struggles grew weaker. At last he lay still in Steve's arms. He turned his face away, but not before Steve saw that he was crying.

It would be a long time before Tony forgave him for this. 

When the river finally ran clear, he lifted Tony's leg from the water. Already he could see fresh blood welling up, scarlet and startling against the wounds that had been washed white. Quickly, before they could bleed too badly, he began wrapping his makeshift bandage about them, pulling the fabric as tight as he dared.

Tony flinched violently, but he no longer tried to pull away. He just lay quietly now, shivering all over, his eyes tightly closed.

Steve tied the bandage off and at last it was done. He would tear off his other trouser leg later and fashion a splint with two small tree branches, but he would wait to do that. Tony needed a break.

He took Tony's hand. _How are you?_

Tony made no move to take his hand in return. He just nodded a little.

Guilt and remorse stabbed him as he cradled Tony to his chest. This was all his fault. Tony was utterly dependent on him. He should have stopped and investigated that wooden post when he saw it. He should have done a better job of leading Tony through the Forest. He should have taken better care of him.

_I will do better, I swear. Nothing will ever hurt you again._

****

They did not go any further that day.

They remained by the river, moving only when necessity demanded it. The first time this happened, anger and humiliation colored Tony's cheeks. The second time, though, there was no mistaking that flush for anything except what it was: fever.

It was evening by then, and the light was fast leaving the sky. Steve had fashioned a splint for Tony's ankle earlier. Even the gentlest of touches left Tony gasping and crying out with pain, though, and he had not dared to do anything else. He still was not even sure if any bones were broken, since that kind of examination was out of the question when Tony was already in so much pain.

Not that it mattered. It was clear now that the wounds were infected. Any chance that Tony might be able to leave this place under his own power was long gone.

Steve held him close, feeling utterly useless. Twice he had offered Tony some of the meat from their kill, but Tony was not interested in food. Even getting him to drink from the river was messy and difficult.

_Im sorry,_ he said, tracing the words on Tony's arm. _Im sorry._

_Not your fault,_ Tony replied. He barely lifted his hand when he wrote, and his lettering was sloppier than ever.

Steve did not reply. He wasn't sure if it made him feel better or worse that Tony did not blame him for what had happened.

Abruptly Tony stiffened and lifted his head. He looked up – not because he expected to see anything, Steve knew, but because he was directing Steve's attention upward, to whatever it was he had heard.

The sight that met his eyes was incredible. Far above, the skies were aflame with light and fire. He could see explosions, soundless and surreal from their vantage point here on the ground. From time to time, one of those fires burst into life just above the Forest, but each time, the flames seemed to be repelled through some mysterious, invisible force. No harm came to the trees at all.

_Thanos is attacking,_ he wrote.

Tony nodded wearily. _Its been a privilege and all that?_

_No,_ Steve said. He knew that was just Tony's way, making a joke of things even now, but he didn't like the defeat inherent in that black humor. _The Forest is safe._

And what a wonderful irony, that here in this place that done its level best to destroy them, they were safer than everyone else on the planet.

_Says you,_ Tony said. He managed a faint smile.

As grateful as he was for that note of humor, Steve did not reply. He was too worried about his fellow Avengers. What were they doing now, Thor and Bruce, Clint and Natasha? Were they following the plans he had set forth days ago? Or had they devised a new strategy in his absence, perhaps based on new intelligence he had not been privy to? And what did it matter, really, just as long as they stayed safe?

The light show up above went on for hours. He saw some of the crafts the Matriarch's people used, and others that flew past reminded him of the Chitauri. None entered the Forest. Once he thought he saw the lightning that could only come from Thor and Mjolnir. He tried describing what he saw, but Tony batted his hand away, refusing to let him finish. Given Tony's dark mood, it was hard not to take that as another sign of defeat. He had to remind himself that Tony could hear the battle, and was no doubt able to follow it just as easily as Steve was.

He guessed it was close to midnight before the fighting ceased. One by one, the stars became visible above the Forest. He wanted to ask Tony if he could hear anything to indicate who had won, but Tony was finally asleep, and Steve didn't want to disturb him.

Alone in the silence, he waited for the night to end.

****

As soon as dawn's first light made it possible to see, Steve made his move.

He was already up. Tony didn't know it, but Steve had barely slept since this whole ordeal had begun. He feared to let his guard down, but even more than that, he feared to close his eyes and turn his world black as well as silent. Now as the first pink blush of sunrise streaked the sky, he prepared to move out for the last time.

One way or another, he was determined that this was the last day they would spend in the Forest.

It was not easy to rouse Tony; twice Tony pushed clumsily at him, trying to make him back off. The third time Steve tried, though, he finally allowed it, although he did not look happy about it.

His hands were like ice. Steve pressed them together, palm to palm, warming them between his own. Fever gave Tony a look of rosy, false health. By contrast, the light from the arc reactor seemed dimmer somehow, as though it too had become infected. He told himself it was just his imagination, but then he remembered why Tony needed the arc reactor, and he found himself wondering just what all this prolonged stress was doing to that already-damaged heart.

More determined than ever to get out of here today, Steve gently chafed Tony's cold hands. He tried to focus on that simple gesture. His worry was too great, though – he kept noticing other, little things that only added to his fear. Fresh blood spotted the bandage wrapped about Tony's ankle. His blank stare, fixed on nothing, was dulled not just by blindness, but pain and fever. Steve didn't think he was ready to give in, not just yet, but even the indomitable Tony Stark had his limits.

He turned Tony's right hand over so he could write. _I need you to carry my shield._

Tony blinked. He frowned, then shook his head. He reached up with his other hand and rubbed at his eyes. Steve understood then that Tony hadn't been refusing his request. He was merely trying to clear his head so he could focus on Steve's words. 

Patiently he tried again. _Need you to carry my shield._

Tony thought about this for a while, then he sketched a jaunty little salute. He smiled; weary, sick, in desperate need of a shower and a shave – and still achingly beautiful.

Steve could have hugged him. Instead, he said, _Hows the leg?_

After two months on a team together, he already knew that when Tony bitched and moaned about a supposed injury, it was in fact nothing. It was when he grew quiet and did not focus on himself that Steve needed to pay attention. He was not sure what to expect in response to his question, but he was pleased to see that Tony seemed to consider it thoughtfully before answering.

_Not good,_ came the response. _Guess you know that already._

This actual acknowledgement of pain and injury was enough to shore up Steve's resolve. _Im going to get you out of here,_ he wrote. _Have to carry you. You up for that?_

_Can it be bridal style?_ Tony said with another exhausted smile. Right away, though, his smile vanished as a fever chill shuddered through him. Involuntarily he clutched at Steve's arm.

Steve wrapped both arms around him, helping him ride out the chilled shaking until he was calm once more. Despite the cold that wracked him, Steve could feel the heat rising off him in waves.

He prayed that he would be quick enough. That they could make it out of the Forest. That they would not emerge to find the Citadel in the hands of Thanos – what a laugh that would be! That the Matriarch's sages would be able to break the spell that bound them, and heal Tony. That they would one day be safe, back on Earth in the Avengers Tower, irritating and mocking each other, once again pretending that there was nothing between them but hostility and tension.

Oh, he prayed.

****

He walked slowly through the Forest, carrying his burdens.

In some ways, the journey was easier than the previous ones they had made. The river continued to widen and grow deeper. The ground around it was clearer than the rest of the Forest; he no longer had to worry about ducking under tree branches or pushing his way through the undergrowth. But the land had begun to climb, and though he knew he should be glad, because this meant he was nearing the treeline, the gradual incline was incredibly taxing.

He was weaker than he had thought, the days without food and sleep having taken a greater toll on him than he had guessed. He wasn't sure how much of that was due to the Forest's dark energy, or if it would have been the same had he been back on Earth.

Stubbornly he walked on, shirtless, his trousers reduced to ragged shorts that reached no further than his knees. Tony lay draped across his back, his arms dangling in front of Steve's chest, his head drooping low; Steve's shield was strapped to his back with the Iron Man gauntlet tucked beneath it. It was difficult to tell, but Steve thought he was drifting in and out of consciousness.

For hours he walked, stopping for nothing. He kept his hands hooked beneath Tony's knees, holding him firmly. As the incline grew steeper and steeper, he leaned ever farther forward, keenly aware of how a single misstep could loosen Tony's precarious balance and cause him to fall. He walked carefully, too, mindful of where his left leg was in respect to Tony's foot, making sure he did not accidentally bump the injured area. The resulting awkward hitch in his stride slowed him down still further, but he did not let himself think about that. All that mattered was moving forward.

He thought it might be two hours past noon when Tony suddenly jerked in his grasp and picked his head up. He slapped frantically at Steve's chest. Steve could feel his breath, hot and panicky, at his ear.

He started to turn his head, straining to see Tony's face, when Tony lifted his arm and pointed. He turned back in the direction Tony had indicated – and all the strength drained from his body as he saw trees bending and swaying in the Forest as something came toward them.

"No," he said, mouthing the word in silence. "Please no."

Even as he spoke, though, he turned so the river was at his back and he was facing the Forest. Carefully he lowered himself to one knee, keeping one eye on the movement of the trees. He could smell it now, too, the thick stench that presaged the creature's arrival.

Tony slid off his back. He crumpled as soon as he hit the ground, clutching at his leg, crying out silently.

His heart pounding, Steve stood up. Even if Tony hadn't been injured and shaking with fever chills, there was not enough time for him to don the gauntlet and hook it up to the arc reactor. Nor would it matter. He knew exactly how ineffective repulsor blasts would be.

Tony wrenched his arms free of the straps holding the shield to his back. Steve bent down and retrieved it just as the beast stepped out from the Forest.

This time there was no darkness to obscure the thing. Under the unforgiving light of day, the beast glared at him – and Steve stared back. This one was nearly the same size as the first, although its horns were shorter. Its ears twitched angrily, almost like a cat's.

"You don't want to do this," Steve said. Maybe the thing could hear him. Maybe the dark energy of the Forest would let his words take shape through magic. Maybe there was still a chance that they could escape from this. "We don't want to hurt you. Just let us go."

The creature's lips drew back from its teeth in a silent snarl. Its hindquarters lowered as it readied itself to spring.

Slowly, trying not to make it appear like a threat, Steve raised his shield.

The beast opened its mouth and roared. He could only imagine what it sounded like.

_Please,_ he thought, and the beast leaped at him.

He stepped forward, directly into the attack. The beast landed squarely atop his shield, driving him back several steps, then down to his knees. For a dreadful moment he thought his arm would snap from the terrible weight of the thing, then it bowled him over onto his back, and the pressure was gone.

He raised the shield to protect himself, and got it up just in time to prevent the beast from biting his head off. Its hooves raked at him. From far away he felt a sudden flare of pain and he knew that he was hurt, then he slammed the shield into the side of its head and knocked it off him.

The creature was thrown a short distance, thudding hard enough on impact to cause quaking tremors to roil through the earth. Steve rolled in the opposite direction, and came up smoothly to his feet. He glanced at himself long enough to see the blood running down his right arm, then looked back up again.

The beast was truly infuriated now. It roared, the stink of the thing enveloping him. He glanced behind him once, checking on Tony – he was huddled on the ground – then he looked back again and the thing was charging at him once more.

He went down on one knee this time, intending to catch the creature on his shield and use its own momentum to throw it again, much the same way he had once launched Natasha high into the air to snag a Chitauri flyer. But the beast was no slender woman, and it had other ideas. As its upper body landed on the shield, its hind legs raked at him, trying to disembowel him.

Steve staggered backward, stumbled under the weight of the thing still on his shield, and let himself be borne down to his back. As he fell, he twisted his body to the left, so instead of landing directly on top of him, the beast thumped to the ground beside him in a bone-rattling thud.

For a split second they both lay there facing toward the Forest, the shield in between them like a red wall. Then the creature bunched its hindquarters underneath it, ready to rise.

Before it could get up, Steve grabbed the shield with both hands and slammed the bottom edge of it into the back of the beast's neck. 

Its mouth opened wide in a screech of pain – and probably rage. Blood spattered Steve's face and arms. He leaned down, forcing the shield in deeper like a knife, sawing it back and forth in an effort to finish the job quickly.

The beast thrashed and kicked, pawing frantically at the ground. Its mouth opened in another silent scream, then its head dropped and it was still.

His heart thudding in his chest, Steve yanked the shield free and backed away. 

_That's it. You're down. You're dead. It's over and done with. I tried to warn you. You wouldn't listen and now you're dead._

He took another step back, and his knees buckled. The world went soft and gray all around him. He sagged down to his knees and swayed there, not sure yet if he was going to fall over. 

The pain in his arm pulled him back from the faint. He hadn't felt it when he was wielding the shield, but now that the fight was over and the adrenaline was wearing off, he could not avoid it any longer. He looked down at himself, dully amazed to see that his arm was torn open from shoulder to elbow, blood running all the way down to his hand.

"Oh," he said.

A shudder ran through the beast. As swiftly as a cat, it hunched and twisted and rose to its feet.

Steve could hardly breathe for the shock. It was dead. He believed it beyond a doubt. So why wasn't it working?

The creature stared at him, insane fury in its eyes. It pawed at the ground, its hooves red with his blood – but not its own. The gaping wound in its neck was gone, as though it had never existed.

It snarled at him. Then its head whipped to the side. And it glared at Tony.

"No!" Steve shouted. He staggered to his feet, heedless of the pain. "No," he said again. He didn't care if the thing could hear him or not, understand him or not. He hefted the shield and braced himself for another attack. "I won't let you. You're already dead. Just die already!" Pain pulsed thickly in his right arm. The world wanted to go out of focus again, and he blinked rapidly, refusing to let it. "I won't let you hurt him. You'll have to come through me first."

And why was it only now, when it was too late to make any difference, that he realized the truth? "I love him." His voice was tight with fury and despair and all the horrible weight of discovery come too late. "You can't have him. Do you hear me? I love him, and you don't get to have him!"

The beast snorted, thick and guttural. It pawed at the ground, its hoof scraping at the soil.

"Steve."

Stunned, he whirled around just as he heard the unmistakable high-pitched whine of the repulsor powering up. And there was Tony, sitting up, the Iron Man gauntlet shining brightly on his hand. It was aimed somewhat unsteadily at the beast – but Tony himself was looking at Steve.

Looking at him.

"Oh my God," Steve said.

"I do, too, you know," Tony said, and fired.

The sound of the repulsor was like thunder and lightning, like a battle cry. Steve turned back toward the beast as it screeched in agony, half its face blown off. It crashed to the earth with another jarring thud.

"Now it's dead," he said.

"You better believe it," Tony said grimly.

He looked up, saw the slightly bemused expression on Tony's face – _did I really just say that?_ – and burst out laughing. He couldn't help it.

But it was okay. He could laugh about it. The creature was finally dead. There was no more danger from it. Nothing could shake that belief now.

From far off, he heard a new sound, this one even more welcome than the silence that accompanied the beast's death. He knew that sound, those alien engines.

"I guess we learned our lesson," Tony said. He slumped, dropping his arm heavily to his side. "Good thing, too, 'cause I was over this about four days ago."

Steve laughed again. He knew he was in shock, that was why he was laughing even though he was bleeding to death, laughing as Tony stared up at him, looking like death warmed over while still managing to smile so sweetly at him.

"I guess we did," he said, just as the alien craft appeared above the trees.

And that was the last thing he knew.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my Tumblr crew for providing support and encouragement as I struggled with this chapter, especially [torianmist](http://archiveofourown.org/users/torianmist) for her feedback.
> 
> Also please note the changed rating for this story. This chapter is the reason why.

The first thing Tony noticed when he woke up was the silence. It was deep and profound, filling the space around him utterly. For long moments nothing existed except that silence – until he realized the sound of his own escalating breathing was there, too.

He opened his eyes, and remembered.

He made a short lunging motion forward, sitting up and reaching for his leg, his other hand hovering in front of his eyes. Then he reached with both hands for his chest, feeling the reassuring physical presence of the arc reactor. It shone steadily, unaffected by what had happened in the Forest.

The room he currently occupied looked vaguely familiar, in that he knew these were the quarters assigned to him during the Avengers' stay – and yet they seemed strange and unknown. As though four days of blindness had been enough to permanently give him cause to mistrust what he saw.

Tony sighed. "I wonder what the Constitution says about interplanetary lawsuits," he muttered.

He threw the blankets back and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Both of them. His left ankle was completely whole and uninjured. There was not even a scar to show where the trap sunk its teeth in. Whatever else their magic might be capable of, it was obvious that the Matriarch's sages had some powerful healing spells at their command.

He didn't remember getting healed. Back in the Forest, he had seen the ship land, but after that things had turned hazy and surreal. He thought he remembered dragging himself over to Steve and using his bare hands to try and stem the bleeding from that terrible wound on Steve's arm. Certainly it sounded like something he would do – stupid and utterly useless, but a valiant effort nonetheless.

Even more indistinct was a memory of being carried on board the craft. He didn't remember what had caused it – or if it had even happened – but something had made contact with his leg, causing him to scream with the pain. And in that blurry memory he could swear Steve had been there, chalk-white, eyes blazing like some avenging angel, looming over him so no one else could get close.

He was sure that hadn't happened, though.

Well, pretty sure.

Fairly sure.

Anyway, now here he was, all healed up apparently, free from pain and fever, just another day here, like waking up back at home. They had bathed him, and dressed him again in a set of clothes that came straight from their host's closets, just a loose tunic and trousers in a bland shade of gray. Close at hand there was a long table with food and pitchers of water set out, along with towels and a fresh change of clothing. More thoughtful than a Holiday Inn, these guys were. All that was missing was the complimentary copy of USA Today and the free wi-fi.

Tony ignored everything on the table. He got to his feet and just kind of stood there, tottering like he was drunk, making sure he had his balance. For a little while he felt too light-headed to move, then the moment passed, and he set off for the door.

There was no one in the hall. No guards, no visitors. He wondered where the other Avengers were. Maybe they were being kept away deliberately. Or maybe they were with Steve. Or maybe they were all dead, their lives lost in the battle against Thanos.

Or maybe he was just a morbid asshole who needed to shut his brain up.

A bit unsteadily, Tony made his way down the hall. Steve's room was at the far end. There was no one outside his door, either. Nor was the door locked. He just turned the knob and went right inside.

Steve was still in bed, soundly asleep. Despite the massive blood loss from his injury, he looked no paler than he normally did. He was maybe a bit thinner, the same way Tony was, but that just went to show that no magic spell could undo the effects of starvation. And oddly enough, seeing that new thinness made him feel better. It was proof that they really _had_ suffered out there, that not all the scars and terrors could be taken away as though they had never happened.

There was an identical set up in here, tables to one side bearing food and water pitchers, fresh clothing and towels for bathing. Tony walked right past them both, and sat down in a rather uncomfortable chair near the bed. The cushion was cold; no one had been here keeping vigil.

And then he waited.

It was a long wait. Or possibly he was more tired than he wanted to admit. He fell asleep – and it wasn't until he heard the sound of someone moving around that he woke up.

He sat up straight, and ugh, neck cramp, but that didn't matter because there was Steve. Awake and staring at him. Too pale and thin, but still so damn noble and beautiful that it hurt just to look at him.

During those days in the Forest, when communication had been so slow and difficult, he had felt the words piling up in his head, so many things he had wanted to say but couldn't. Snappy comebacks, sarcastic asides, pointless commentary on what they were doing, question after question about all the things he could not see and needed to know about. Angry accusations and defensive posturing and ashamed mumblings. Pronouncements of reassurance. Promises of the I-will-get-you-home variety.

Oh, some of it he had said aloud. Even with no one to hear him, he hadn't been able to keep his mouth shut. But most of it, the true words, he had kept inside. So this, this moment here and now, was the perfect chance to finally say them.

Tony cleared his throat. He opened his mouth and said, "Good morning, sunshine."

Well, that was just brilliant.

Steve blinked, then smiled at him. "Good morning to you, too. Is it really morning?"

Tony shrugged. "Hell if I know. I'm usually on the receiving end of the bedside vigil. I'm not too sure what it is I'm supposed to say from this side of the bed."

Steve's smile softened, and a rush of prickly heat swept over Tony's body. Something incredible happened to Steve's face when he smiled like that. Even his eyes looked bluer. "Who says you have to say anything at all?"

"Okay," Tony said, and promptly went off. "Here's the thing. I'm thinking we need to find our hosts, tell them 'Fuck you,' gather up our wayward Avengers, and get the hell off this planet. Have Thor give his buddy a call so he can do his thing, and we can be back on Earth in under an hour. What do you say?"

Steve frowned as he sat up. "It sounds good to me, except why don't we leave out the 'fuck you' part?"

"Nah, I like it better when we leave that part in," Tony said. He stood up. "There's food, and if you want to take a shower…"

Steve's eyes moved past him, to the tables where their hosts had left everything they might conceivably need. "Oh," he said faintly. "I am pretty hungry."

Tony stood aside as Steve climbed out of bed. "Knock yourself out."

"What about you?" Steve asked. He walked past, not at all unsteady on his feet or needing a moment to acclimate himself, the way Tony had. Damn super soldier serum. "Did you eat?"

"Not yet," Tony admitted. He drifted over to the table where the food was laid out. He supposed it looked good, but honestly he wasn't hungry.

"Do you know what you want?" Steve asked. He reached for a plate, but let his hand fall back without actually picking it up.

They stood there, side by side, looking down at the food. Even without looking, his gaze fixed on the platters of bread and fruit on the table, he knew precisely where Steve was. It was like being in the Forest again, so close that he could feel the warmth of Steve's body.

Beside him, Steve's breath hitched and caught.

And good, that was good, because it meant he wasn't the only one.

He turned to face Steve. "Screw the buffet. It'll keep. I want _you._ "

And yeah, he definitely wasn't the only one, because Steve turned blindly toward him at the same time he reached up, and then Steve's mouth was on his and Tony's brain finally, finally, shut up.

Time stopped as they just stood there kissing. Steve's hands rose to close about his arms, and Tony returned that clasp, and they probably looked silly as hell, but he didn't care. Steve's mouth was warm, his lips were full and just begging for him to trace them with his tongue.

That was apparently all the permission Steve needed, because suddenly Steve's tongue was in his mouth, and they were both breathing hard and clutching at each other, like the universe's most awkward make out session ever. But it was okay, it was more than okay, because this was just the first time, and it was only going to get better from here.

"God, I want you," he said.

"Shhh. No words," Steve said. "No talking. No sounds."

Tony cocked his head slightly, wondering what kind of game Steve was playing at. To his surprise, though, Steve looked deadly serious. Apparently this mattered. And this too was okay. Never let it be said that he was not adaptable. 

So he walked over to the door and ran his palm over the small control set in the wall. At once, the lights went out. As darkness enveloped the room, he heard Steve's breathing quicken, and he knew he had done the right thing.

He walked back into the room. It wasn't completely dark, due to the light from the arc reactor, but it was close enough, and that was what mattered.

They found each other in the dark, and now there was nothing to stand in the way. There was only themselves.

If they were going to make this like the Forest, if that's what this was about, and he was pretty sure it was, only one thing would suffice. He gripped the hem of Steve's tunic and tugged up. Obediently Steve raised his arms so Tony could pull it over his head.

The instant it hit the floor, Steve was reaching for his clothing, seeking to return the favor. Tony was only too happy to oblige. He had lost any shame he harbored over the scars on his chest and the arc reactor. He had nothing left to hide from Steve.

In the Forest, Steve had possessed the advantage, being able to see him as they huddled together in the rain on top of the shield. But now they were on even footing, both of them bathed in the soft blue-white light of the arc reactor.

What it showed Tony was perfection. Broad shoulders, sculpted chest, firm abs, impossibly narrow waist. After a moment of stunned staring, he remembered that all this was his for the taking, and even more, for the touching.

He laid his hands flat on Steve's chest, marveling over the feel of him. Half a dozen things came to mind that he might say then, some of them snarky, others worshipful. But he was mindful of what Steve wanted, and he had to admit that the enforced silence was a bit of a turn-on, so he kept them to himself.

Instead he let his hands communicate. He explored that beautiful chest, then followed the tapering line of Steve's waist down to his hips. He brushed the fabric of Steve's trousers with his thumbs, then moved his hands up again, this time trailing his fingertips up and across Steve's back.

Steve stood still at first, patiently giving him time to revel in that glorious body. But as Tony slid his hands over Steve's shoulders, even the legendary super soldier patience gave out. Steve's arms enclosed him and drew him close, and then Steve was kissing him again.

This was perfectly okay with Tony. He would have been happy to stand there all day kissing Steve. Even better was when Steve began to run his hands up and down his back, sending little shivers along his spine with every caress.

He took a step backward, in what he thought was the direction of the bed.

Steve moved with him. And now Steve's hands reached the lowest point of their exploration, and pushed at his trousers.

Tony could take a hint. He let go of Steve's shoulders, and made short work of the rest of his clothes. Steve followed his lead, just as swiftly, and then they were both naked again, skin pressed to skin as it had been in the Forest.

It was different this time. They were both making tiny noises they could not control, and the arc reactor was providing light, but that was okay. They had done their best to recreate what they had been forced to endure as a nightmare, and now they were turning it into a good memory. He couldn't speak for Steve, but for Tony, it was enough.

Steve's hands glided down his back, then dipped lower, cupping the curve of his ass. Such strong hands, so powerful, and yet they were so gentle now, touching him with almost the same reverence he felt when he looked upon Steve's body. It seemed incredible that Steve could be feeling the same thing.

Moving together, reluctant to separate, they moved toward the bed. Steve nuzzled at his lower lip, then began to press searing kisses along his jaw and down his throat. Tony tipped his head back and twined his fingers in Steve's hair as Steve bent his head to nip at his collarbone. Lower still Steve moved, leaving kisses in his wake, and there was only a split second for Tony to realize where this was headed, then Steve kissed the rim of the arc reactor, and his world fell apart.

No one had ever done that. Granted there was only one person who _could_ have done it, but she hadn't, and now there was Steve, and Steve was tracing the curve of the arc reactor with one finger, solemn awe in his eyes. And no one had ever done that, either. They looked at the arc reactor with fear or disgust or calculating greed, not wonder. Tony could only stand there trembling all over, torn between the urgent desire to run away, and the equally demanding need to stay and absorb Steve's touch and all the warmth it carried.

Steve ran his fingers over the surface of the arc reactor one last time, then his hand dipped lower. He paused, just long enough for Tony to start to lean forward so he could take another kiss, then his finger began tracing a new line.

It took a moment for it to click, what exactly Steve was doing. This kind of touch did not belong here, where there was light and sound and civilization. Yet Steve was doing it anyway, inscribing the words on his chest just beneath the arc reactor.

_I love you._

Lower, below his rib cage. 

_I love you._

Lower, on his stomach, and now Steve was on his knees.

_I love you._

Lower still, and finally, oh God _finally_ Steve was touching him, hand wrapped about his cock. In spite of his promise to stay silent, Tony couldn't help groaning as he pushed into Steve's hand. At this point it wouldn't take much to send him over the edge – and they still had barely begun to uncover the possibilities of what they might do.

Quickly he seized Steve's hands and pulled him upright. It was his turn now, and he did not miss his chance. Steve's cock was as beautiful as the rest of him. There was a joke somewhere in there about standing proudly at attention, but damned if he could find it now. All he knew was a shivery pride in the way Steve jumped and caught his breath as Tony took him in hand and began to stroke him lightly. Steve's eyes fluttered closed, a look of almost decadent pleasure on his face.

God, it was like being a teenager all over again. He couldn't get enough of Steve's body. He hadn't lasted so briefly in years. But then, he had never felt like this before, so desperately in love, wanting all of that other person, hating those seconds when they weren't actually touching.

And the most amazing thing was, it could always be like this.

He groaned again as they finally found the bed and sort of fell onto it. Steve's hand was back on his cock and he had never let go of Steve and he couldn't tell where Steve's mouth ended and his breath began, and he never, ever wanted this to stop.

Steve stiffened and made a groaning noise that might have been his name. And that was it, Tony sailed right over the edge, the entire world whiting out as he came.

Afterward, they lay there, facing each other. Steve's hand lazily stroked up and down his arm, but Tony was content just to look. He felt wonderfully tired and sated, and sleep was not far off.

He murmured, "So. I guess we should add that to the list of things we need to talk about, huh?"

Steve's hand paused, then resumed its stroking motion. "I guess so," he said, and smiled.

****

Some indeterminate time later, as he lay there dozing, not quite asleep anymore but not really awake, he heard a flurry of footsteps, and then voices.

"Whoa! What the…?"

"Oh. Well, that explains a lot."

"It would seem our brothers have found each other."

"Well, I always did root for those two crazy kids."

"Boys. Let's go. We can come back later."

"I should get a picture of this."

"I do not believe that would be a wise move."

"Just one picture? Please?"

"No. Out. Now."

"You're mean, Tasha."

"Yes, I know. Now get out."

Most of the footsteps left.

"You guys owe me big time for this."

Then she was gone, too.

Tony smiled and went back to sleep.

****

"…and so I told her that the next time they needed our help, I would strongly recommend against providing any aid to her or her people."

Tony waited, but eventually it became clear that the story was over, and he shook his head. "Wow, that's it? _That's_ your grand 'fuck you' to the Matriarch?"

Steve gave him a look that said clearly what he thought about using those words to the leader of an entire planet. "Actually," he said, "I think she was more upset when I told her Thor was going to let all of Asgard know what they did to us, especially Heimdall. I get the impression that this realm will be strictly off-limits from now on."

"Oh," Tony said. "Heimdall. Well, sure."

He looked out over the balcony where they were standing. The land surrounding the Citadel was torn and charred black, but the great building itself was largely unharmed. Thanos had been successfully driven back, and though it would take time for the people to recover, Tony had no doubt that they would do so. He also had no doubt that he would never come back here to see those recovery efforts – and he was A-okay with that.

Beyond the churned-up, scorched Earth, the Forest lay on the horizon, a dark murky green that gave him the shivers to look at for too long. He was pretty sure that from now on, he was going to forever prefer the urban jungles of places like New York.

"You have to admit," Steve said carefully, "they did do us a favor, in a way. Just think how long it would have taken us to get to this point if we had been left to our own devices."

"Given that 'our own devices' wouldn't have included a _bear trap_ , I would have been surprisingly okay with that," Tony snapped.

Instantly, Steve looked down, guilt written all over his face. "I'm so sorry about that."

It seemed like every conversation they had came back to that, and Tony sighed. "We've been over this," he said. "And over it. It's not your fault."

"I should have done better," Steve said. "I feel like I let you down every step of the way."

"Well, you didn't, because here I am," he said.

"And that day, by the stream. I'm sor—"

"Don't," Tony said curtly. That was one memory he was more than willing to leave behind. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. Eventually you were going to find out. So now you know. One less thing to worry about. Now can we not talk about it? Like, ever again?"

Steve looked like talking about it was exactly what he _did_ want, but he took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. But if you ever do want to, I'm here."

He chose to ignore the first part of that sentence. "I hope you'll be there for more than just talk." He gave Steve a suggestive wink.

It was a diversionary tactic of the lowest sort, but Steve fell for it, anyway. Or maybe he let himself fall for it. Either way, it worked.

"Of course I will," Steve said. He put an arm about Tony's waist and drew him in close.

Just the promise of all that sex to come brightened Tony's day. "Oh, and hey," he said, "while we're on the subject of unnecessary apologies that will never be mentioned again, you know I'm sorry for blaming you for everything, right? I was an ass and I know it. But in my defense, I was just the tiniest bit pissed off about waking up to find myself suddenly blind and stranded in the middle of nowhere."

Steve uttered a quiet chuckle. "What's your excuse the rest of the time?" But he gave Tony a little hug as he said it, and Tony knew he did not mean it maliciously.

"It's all just part of my charm," he said easily. "And anyway, it worked. I got you right where I wanted you."

"That you did," Steve said, and kissed him.

If there had been time, he would have loved to let that kiss lead them back inside and to bed, but the other Avengers would be there soon. They were finally leaving this planet – and their departure could not come soon enough, as far as Tony was concerned.

He turned within the circle of Steve's arm, so he could look Steve in the eye. "Can I make just one request?"

"Of course," Steve said.

"Can we never go to another planet where they have magic? 'Cause I think I've had enough of it to last a lifetime."

"Request denied," Steve said, looking every inch the serious Captain America right then. "The Avengers go wherever we are needed. However." Amusement shone in his eyes, lightening his expression and turning him back into plain old Steve Rogers again. And how interesting, Tony thought, to realize that he loved both of them equally. "I promise that _you_ will never need to deal with magic again. We'll let Thor handle it from now on. How's that?"

"We'll hash out the details later," Tony said. "For now, I accept your proposal."

A decidedly devilish glint sparked in Steve's eyes. "But I haven't even asked yet."

Taken aback, Tony wasn't quite sure what to say to that. Although as it turned out, he didn't have to. From inside the room, he heard the sound of voices, and he knew the other Avengers had arrived.

It was time to go home.

******

Epilogue

 

He woke from a dream of running terror-stricken through the dark to find himself in bed – his bed – sprawled next to a warm presence that could only be one person.

"Mmm," Tony said. His face was buried in the pillow, and he turned his head slightly so he could look at Steve.

Steve did not say anything. He just lay there propped up on one elbow, gazing steadily at him. But the gentle caress on his back shifted and became words.

_I love you. Go back to sleep. I love you._

"There's no place like home," Tony murmured, and burrowed deeper into the pillow.

He fell asleep that way, Steve's fingers tracing words on his skin. Words that followed him down into sleep, where there were no more dreams, only peace.

*********

END

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Facing the Beast (Spellbound fanart)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/845396) by [slashersivi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashersivi/pseuds/slashersivi)




End file.
